


Third Eye

by StudioRat



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Magic, Demon possession, Elemental Magic, Enemies to Friends, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Mentions of Death, Noble Sacrifice, The Cake Is Not A Lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudioRat/pseuds/StudioRat
Summary: In which we climb the dark tower into the dawn.
Relationships: Ganondorf & Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	Third Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nebulyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulyx/gifts), [onwardnary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onwardnary/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [DrSteggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSteggy/gifts), [Vanitas_Repliku_26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanitas_Repliku_26/gifts), [Rudy_Ska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rudy_Ska/gifts), [bloodsexsugarmagick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsexsugarmagick/gifts).



****

Black granite trembled under his boots, resonant with the despair of the desolate earth. The heavy, sulphurous air clung to him even as he passed the fifteenth landing, far enough above the moat of oozing magma that the deadly red-amber glow no longer stained the crisply beveled mullion windows.

“I will rest on the sixteenth,” Link promised himself, allowing a hand to drift to his satchel, where the last bottle of pure spring water from the forest waited for him. He did not fear thirst, not anymore, but it was not a _pleasant_ death, and the fairies struggled to revive him from slow kinds of falls like that.

_You can do it-!_

_We believe in you!_

_You are so brave!_

“Thank you,” said Link with a gentle smile, patting the satchel. 

The fairies waiting safely in his other three bottles laughed and cheered for him again, ever bright and hopeful. That was their nature. Despair could not kill an immortal - but it changed them. Link had learned much more about despair than he had ever thought possible, and even still he dreaded meeting fairies whose hope had broken.

Link kept his promise.

He did not sit down - though the deep window ledge tempted him immensely. “I cannot risk a nap yet. Ganondorf is waiting for us.”

“Oh _Link_ , we _do_ have to hurry, and save Princess Zelda!” Navi fretted, bouncing around the landing in anxious fidgets.

Link rationed himself a small sip of water, studying the enormous arched window. The ledge was deep and low. With even one cushion it would make a lovely spot to curl up with a bottle of spiced apple cider and a thick blanket. It was even the right height to be a good chair. “Do you think it’s enchanted? I’ve never seen so many windows this big. You’d think the lead would melt, it was so hot on the lower floors.”

“Link, come on! Of course it’s magic, he’s a wicked sorcerer! He wrecked the whole castle to raise this monstrous place. The windows don’t matter. What matters is saving the Princess! We have to hurry.”

“In a moment. There’s still a long way to climb, and it is harder to fight when I am tired. If it comes to a fight.”

“The Great Evil King _will_ be a terribly hard fight,” agreed Navi, shaking her wings with a soft rattle of silvery bells. “I don’t know anything about his attack pattern. I won’t be able to help you Link! The phantom he sent to the forest was so hard, strong and erratic and tireless - and he said he made that one _easy_ for you!”

“He did say that,” Link conceded, fitting the cork back in place carefully. “It’s funny, with the colored glass and the facets, every little scrap of light reflects a hundred times brighter than it started. Reminds me of the Spirit Temple. It’s always dark here since we came through the Temple of Time, but these windows glow like it’s midafternoon. I wonder if it’s mirrors or magic… and why he made the skies so dark if he wanted his windows bright.”

“ _Link_ , please. We have to save Princess Zelda, or something terrible is going to happen. I just know it!”

“You always say that,” countered Link with a fond smile as he set his boot on the next granite step. “Everything is going to work out in the end. Do you hear that strange music?”

“It’s awful,” said Navi with a shudder of bells.

“I think it’s interesting.”

“You think _everything_ is interesting,” she countered.

Link laughed. She was right, as she so often was. He was glad of her company, though she was even more fretful than Anju of Kakariko. They made a good team - with Navi along to worry, he didn’t really need to. Anything he might have thought about worrying over, she had already considered from a hundred and one different angles already.

The constructs and illusions filling the lower third of Ganondorf’s tower frightened her terribly, and the immense display of power and magic behind them _was_ astounding. He probably used the Triforce of Power to do it, but even so, it was almost unimaginable how much magic his opponent commanded. The Triforce of Courage really only gave him a little more confidence, a little more stamina, a little more strength, and made learning new skills a _little_ easier.

To be sure, everywhere the dark sorcerer summoned natural predators was immensely challenging, and the constructs hit just as hard - if not harder - than living people. Some of the real lizal were smart enough to run away when they were defeated, but some of them fought to the death. Link didn’t like those fights much, and he spared a breath to thank the golden goddesses that only a few had waited for them on the lower floors. 

The last one had protected the heavy key now hanging from his own belt, and there had only been one other door from that chamber. He’d tried to persuade them to surrender, but they fought harder than anyone he’d ever faced, except Nabooru. “Do you think that last warrior was a general, like Nabooru? I wish they had surrendered, before the end. Do you think they carried the key to the king’s chamber because they were a trusted friend?”

Navi shuddered. “You are so _weird_ , Link. Monsters don’t have friends.”

“No, I suppose they don’t,” said Link with a sigh. “I think it’s sad. Friends are a nice thing to have. I hope the healers at the fortress are able to help Nabooru. I don’t want to lose another friend.”

“Friend? She _betrayed_ you, Link! _Twice!_ ” Navi cried in horror.

Link shrugged, counting the stones in the next few steps. They didn’t just _seem_ to be getting narrower, the stairwell _was_ narrower now, and more so with every turn around the eight-sided tower. “Sometimes friends make bad choices. And bad things happened to her that weren’t her fault either.”

“That evil Ganondorf brainwashing her was _awful_ ,” Navi agreed. “How could he _do_ that? And to one of his own people?”

“Probably magic,” began Link.

“I _meant_ how can he be just _so_ \- so _evil?_ All the time? How can he imagine so many awful things to do, and _how_ can he think that it’s _ok_ to be like that?”

“I will ask him. We _are_ almost there. But I’m not so sure that _was_ his magic. The Twinrova were pretty bad.”

Navi shuddered in horror. “They were his mothers too. What a nasty family.”

“Maybe,” said Link, dismayed to find no landing at the full turn this time. 

“Link, you are so good and kind, but really - do you _have_ to be _nice_ to the worst people in the whole world?”

“Do you suppose anyone has ever been nice to Ganondorf?”

“No, probably not,” conceded Navi. “Even _looking_ at him is scary!”

“It makes me happy when people are nice to us, and it’s nicer to be in places where people are nice to each other. I don’t know if kindness makes everyone happy, but I think everyone should get a chance to find out,” said Link firmly. He was very tired of climbing, too tired to be afraid of the unknown waiting for him behind the lock which matched the jeweled golden key. 

The lower third of the solitary tower had been dark and dreary, all brown and rose granite, lit only by braziers that flared angrily if you moved too close, as if the fire had independent will - and a sour temper. The tumblers of the golden lock dividing the unrelieved stone from the spiraling staircase with its wondrous, many-colored windows had been heavy and tight, but once he put enough strength into it to start the movement, they turned easily, well made and well oiled. 

“He tried to frighten me before we went to the temple. I wonder if he remembers, with seven whole normal years of king-ing since then.”

“You are _so_ weird.”

Link laughed. “Someone has to be. Look, there is the door - and a pot! Will you go see if a friend is hiding, so I know if I should drink the rest of the water?”

“Oh, I _hope_ you won’t need to be raised four times to defeat him. It’s not good for humans to almost die that often,” Navi fretted, flying ahead.

“Maybe he will surrender,” said Link, though Navi wasn’t listening anymore. 

He leaned against the windowframe to peer through the golden glass. He couldn’t see much, except the faint glow of magma far below, and the crackle of lightning skittering across the dark sky. He couldn’t tell what time of day it might be, and he lost track of his own rhythms not long after they made it past the crumbling outer bailey.

Navi returned to his side to whisper that the fairy hiding in the pot by the door was very shy, and the other two pots held arrows. She only sighed at him when he wondered why Ganondorf would keep two full quivers worth of arrows outside his door. She sighed at him a lot.

The heavy door across from the window trembled in resonance with the ominous music beyond it. Link had never heard anything like it before, discordant in places, climbing in pitch and volume. In the higher notes, it reminded him of the crank-organ the windmill tender in Kakariko played, but much more resonant, with a metallic undertone like a dozen hunting horns all at once. The ornate gilded door vibrated in its frame, the red crystal embedded at the center flashing. And yet... Link hesitated to interrupt the strange and… somehow _mournful_ song.

He let the melody loop through two more variations, intrigued - and impressed by the stamina of a musician who could play so long without rest. He wondered if Ganondorf had enchanted an instrument to play by itself. “Why do you suppose it was locked from the outside? All the temples make sense, so the monsters and constructs had to guard the holy place and couldn’t get out to run wild, but why would he put _himself_ in a cage?”

Navi sighed. “Link. You can’t get distracted now. He has the princess. We _have_ to save her. _Come on_ , before something terrible happens!”

Link took a turn at sighing, and considered his half-bottle of water. If he drank the last of it, he could catch the shy fairy, and ask her to help him if he fell down. Something made him hesitate, and as he considered how glass and water caught the light so differently, he wondered if Ganondorf brought water up to his tower by magic, or if he sent servants out for it. Either way, with the magma moat, and the ash from Death Mountain, and the rivers so low, he would have to go a long way from his tower for clean water to drink.

If he ever left his tower.

If he even could.

Link tucked the water away, frowning at the tantalizing shimmer of magic writing on the black granite inside wall of the stairway. He wondered why Ganondorf laid red carpet down the center of the treads, and if it was even real, or if it was an illusion. He sighed again, and threw his weight into forcing the door open before Navi could fuss _again_.

Link stumbled on the brightly patterned marble floor, stunned by the crescendo of the song, and dazzled by the _light_ pouring into the vast chamber. Almost the entire wall aside from the tiny wedge of stone around the door - and the colossal forest of brass pipes across the open space - was golden glass in the same elongated hex pattern as the windows on the long climb.

A shimmering crystal turned slowly, hovering in the air above the stone arch across the room. The cloaked musician stood with his back to the room in the shadows under it, hands moving ceaselessly over three sets of ivory keys. Link couldn’t really see _her_ , but he knew the flashes of pink and white and purple within the hovering crystal must be Zelda, captive and helpless. Looking at it made his stomach turn uncomfortably. “I hope she is ok. Do you think-”

“Link _please_ \- don’t let his magic get past your guard. I can’t help you here!”

The music grew quieter, slower, then stopped entirely.

“The Triforce parts are resonating.” The voice of the man in the gold-edged red cloak seemed deeper than before, rougher. He did not turn, and his broad hands lingered on the ivory keys of his now-silent instrument.

Link drew a deep breath, resettling his stance. He’d begun to feel the pull some time ago, but Ganondorf was right. The Triforce pulsed much stronger now.

“They are combining into one again,” continued Ganondorf, raising his head a little. His wild red hair tumbled past his shoulders now. The edges of his black steel gorget and the backs of his black gloves winked with gold and topaz. “The two Triforce parts that I could not capture on that day seven years ago…? I didn’t expect they would be hidden within you two!”

“You do remember,” murmured Link, watching the red cloak tremble, the gold border shimmering in the light. At first the vaulted room swallowed the sound, as it consumed the click of his boots on the marble, and the shuff of wool when he reached the enormous red carpet filling the center of the bright room under the great gilded dome. “And at the same time - you really _didn’t_ know we carried Courage and Wisdom, did you?”

Ganondorf’s cloak trembled more violently as his dark laughter rose. “Now, _finally_ , all the Triforce parts have been gathered _here!_ ”

_Be strong!_

_Be brave!_

_Be careful!_

Link patted his satchel to reassure the three fairies, and swallowed hard as his gut turned over again. His dry tongue rasped against the roof of his mouth. He stared in awe as Ganondorf flipped his bold cloak over a shoulder and turned to look down at him.

Ganondorf laughed, his grin wide and cruel, his sharp eyes sickly yellow and demon red. His black armor swallowed the light - but topaz and gold still studded the edges, and he still wore patterned white cloth wrapped around his boots and vambraces, and draped from his gorget and belt, exactly as he had seven years ago.

“Ok, maybe I am a _little_ afraid,” Link confessed, struggling to even whisper. He couldn’t lose his nerve now, of all times. He had to find a way to hold his ground. “Was he always this tall? I am much taller than I was but - he is _huge-!_ ”

Navi trembled behind his shoulder, but said nothing.

“These toys are too much for you,” said Ganondorf, his deep voice filling the room. “I command you to return them to me!”

Link could not even _try_ to object - Ganondorf raised his right hand, and this time instead of lightning, purple miasma pulsed through the air and nearly pulled him off his feet. He’d braced to absorb a blow, not resist a pull.

“Link! Be careful! I can’t help you - I can’t get close to him with those waves of dark magic. You will have to fight alone!”

Link struggled against the magic, but it was worse than the grasp of a Like-Like. The magic had no form to strike, no weakness to press, no hunger to tempt. He panted and strove, all for nothing. 

Ganondorf laughed. The magic did not weaken at all.

“ _Why?_ ” Link cried desperately. “Why are you doing this?”

“Give it to me-!” Ganondorf bellowed, stepping down from the carpeted platform. His magic pulled harder.

Link threw all his weight against it, and still his boots slipped on the red wool. Yet - the magic did not actually drag him any closer to Ganondorf. It only actually moved his left hand, and _felt_ like it would pull the rest of him. “ _Why?_ Why do you want it? What do you need Courage for? You are already bolder than anyone! What do you need to fight for? You already _have_ Hyrule, and everyone is already afraid of you!”

Ganondorf laughed. “ _You_ are not afraid.”

“It wouldn’t matter if I was. Heroes do the right thing no matter what,” said Link. The magic neither tightened nor relented - but he hurt from the struggle. He stopped fighting for only a moment, to rest. 

The magic did not pull him any closer. It remained exactly the same.

“ _Give me that which you bear-!_ ” Ganondorf bellowed.

“I can’t,” said Link, frowning at the pulsing mark on both their hands. Ganondorf said the Triforce was combining, but it wasn’t. Shining, resonating, pulling, itching. But not _moving_.

The miasma dissipated. Ganondorf lowered his hand. He was still grinning, but his expression seemed brittle somehow. He stared down his long nose, his broad chest heaving.

“Why did you put Zelda inside a crystal? Is it hurting her? Can she breathe?” Link rubbed at his aching arm, struggling to master his own wind.

“I _will not_ allow her to escape a second time,” said Ganondorf, his hands tightening into fists. “I _command you_ to give it to me, fool!”

“ _Is Zelda going to be ok-?_ ” Link shouted, clenching his own fists. He itched to draw the sword as Navi urged him to do - but he would not bare the holy steel yet. To draw a sword outside of practice and not strike was disrespectful of its deadly power. Ganondorf had not struck him, and the only harm from the miasma he had caused himself in struggling. He was a hero, a _defender_ of the Light. He had never been the first to seek blood and hurt, and even if Ganondorf _had_ caused each and every terrible thing people said of him, Link _would not_ abandon his own honor.

“She too is a fool, thinking she can defy me as you do. _You_ will kneel, and _then_ she will _have_ to give me the Wisdom she carries,” said Ganondorf, clenching his fist tighter, his sharp teeth tearing his harsh words as they fell from his tongue.

“So she’s not hurt?” Link tried to tell his own fist to relax, glancing anxiously at the hovering crystal prison.

“Any harm she suffers is of her own design,” growled Ganondorf. “As is _yours_ . I admire your strength of spirit, but you cannot defy me forever. The piece you carry is too strong for your frail little body and your weak little heart. Surrender it to me _now._ ”

“Just like the miasma,” said Link, forcing his hands open. He hoped Ganondorf was telling the truth. He hoped Zelda could see him, that she could hear them talking. He still felt strange about her deception in Sheik’s guise, but he couldn’t think about that yet. Ganondorf was clever, and he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. “I am stronger than I was before.”

“Seven years changes many things,” agreed Ganondorf, tipping his chin ever so little. His voice seemed more bitter than angry. “I am the Great Evil King, and the world belongs to me. You _will_ kneel, one way or another.”

Link frowned up at him. “Does it make you happy?”

Ganondorf frowned in turn. “What?”

“Being King. Owning everything. Being evil - or at least being _called_ evil. Does it make you happy?”

“What has that to do with anything? Do not think you will distract me, Link-!” Ganondorf shook a finger at him, scowling.

Link pulled his lip between his teeth, considering the man with the evil eyes. He still hadn’t moved forward. He didn’t carry a visible weapon, but he could make his magic into a weapon at any moment. “How do you know my name?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ganondorf scoffed, tossing his hair back. “Enough delays. _Give me the Triforce._ ”

Link took a step closer. “Why?”

“That is not your concern. I command you to-”

“You call it a toy, but you don’t play, do you? You were already grown-up seven years ago when-”

“You defied me in the middle of the road, yes,” Ganondorf grumbled. “I will not let you go so lightly a second time. Had I known what a _nuisance-_ ”

“You _do_ remember,” said Link, unable to suppress a little grin. The king of the world remembered meeting _him_ , before he was anyone people noticed except to tell him he was too small for everything. “Is your enormous horse really a demon like people say?”

“ _What?_ ” Ganondorf scrunched his face up and hunched a little, taking a half step forward like moving closer would untangle a puzzle in front of him.

“I hope you didn’t punish Ingo for losing Epona, even if he isn’t very nice. It wasn’t his fault I took her. Epona and I are friends, and I needed her help. Is your horse your friend? What’s his name?”

“I - _who?_ Ingo? That ranch manager? What has he to do with anything? He sends his tribute wagons on time and without complaint, unlike the rest of your stupid country. Whatever trivial thing he misplaces is no concern whatever. Why would _I_ care about some commoner’s _horse?_ No Hylian beast is capable of matching a _third_ of Asifad’s majesty.” Ganondorf moved another half step closer.

“That’s a nice name, Asifad. Is he named for a spirit too? He’s fancy enough, even if he is scary huge. But I guess you might be too tall even for Epona, and she’s _big_ ,” said Link with a smile, folding his hands behind his back. He fidgeted with the strings of his bomb bag. He didn’t really want to use one - they hurt a lot when he misjudged the distance, and he didn’t like having to use them on living things at all. Still. Knowing he _could_ defend himself helped him stand steady as the Gerudo king loomed closer. 

“I don’t _care_ about your pathetic beast,” sneered Ganondorf.

“I bet you would if you saw her. She’s the prettiest chestnut color with fluffy white socks and a white star. She’s special, even Ingo could see it, so he was going to give her to you. I thought you’d commanded it, but maybe I didn’t hear right,” said Link ruefully. “I’m not sorry I took her though. The road is less lonely with her. She likes apples, and lullabies. I had to leave her outside the walls of Castletown though. She doesn’t like small streets.”

Ganondorf snorted. “Horses rarely do.”

“Where does Asifad live when you’re here? I’ve never seen him roaming free, or I don’t think I have,” said Link.

Ganondorf worked his jaw. He drew a tight breath through his nose. His lip curled when he spoke. “He doesn’t.”

Link frowned.

“Live.”

Link frowned harder.

Ganondorf’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you not understand the concept of _death_ , you pathetic wandering idiot?”

“ _Oh no_ I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” cried Link, reflexively offering his hands to the man. A part of him winced at the blunder - he knew the Gerudo people had strict customs about touch, but the coldness of Ganondorf’s spare words pierced his heart too deeply, and he felt the agony as his own, tangled uncomfortably with a sudden dawning horror that one day he might lose Epona to the longest road also.

Ganondorf stared at him, his sharp red eyes flicking all over his face and hands, as if he couldn’t decide where to look, as if he couldn’t understand what he was looking _at_.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not great with words, but people say I’m good at listening,” Link offered quietly.

Ganondorf started to say one thing, then winced before a single sound came from his lips. He looked away, and said _No_ instead, standing up straight and rolling his shoulders back.

“Maybe later then,” said Link, folding his hands behind his back.

Ganondorf frowned down at him. “Enough distractions. Give me the Triforce.”

“You still haven’t told me why you want it.”

“That is not your concern,” snapped Ganondorf.

“I think - it _is_ . You say it is too much for me, but how do you know it won’t be too much for _you?_ Maybe there’s a good reason it was divided between us.”

Ganondorf snorted in contempt. “Don’t be stupid. I am the Great Evil King Ganondorf, and there is _nothing_ either of you fools can do to stop me.”

Link rolled his lip between his teeth again, thinking harder than ever. Physical puzzles weren’t easy, but he could move around and look at them differently and try things until he began to feel like he understood the riddle. Talking to Ganondorf felt like trying to solve a puzzle in the dark. “How do you make a torch with words?”

Ganondorf furrowed his brow under the heavy jeweled crown.

“Sorry - I talk to myself sometimes,” said Link ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. The telltale heat pricking his ears and cheeks said he was blushing in front of his fearsome opponent, but wishing it would stop _never_ worked, and usually made it worse. “I’m not smart like Zelda, and I never went to school or learned to read very well, but I like puzzles, and the Triforce is kindof like a puzzle. We all thought it would do one thing, but it did something else. It feels like it’s trying to put itself back together, but it’s _also_ not moving, even with your dark magic pulling on it.”

Ganondorf grunted, and folded his arms across his broad chest. It made him look even more stern and cold - but he could have done _anything_ else, and he chose instead to stand, and wait, and listen.

“Weren’t your eyes gold before? Like Nabooru?”

“My sister doesn’t consort with Hylians.”

“I’m _pretty sure_ she _does_ ,” countered Link with a wry grin. “Unless she was teasing about boyfriends. But I’m an honorary Gerudo so I don’t count anyway.”

Ganondorf raised a brow. “What.”

Link laughed, unclasping his satchel. “Hold on, I forget which pocket it’s in. Sounds weird huh? It was a lot of work, and it makes other men mad, but they gave me an official membership card. It has a stamp and ribbon and everything. I guess you’d be my king no matter what happens next - I hadn’t thought of that. I guess I could become a lone wolf like Nabooru. Or - is two enough to make us a pack?”

Ganondorf shook his head, saying nothing. He unfolded his arms and bowed a little to take the membership card. His yellow-and-red eyes flicked over the fancy, sinuous letters, and he shook his head over it with a click of his tongue that reminded him very much of Nabooru.

“Is she your older sister or younger?”

“Older,” he said, folding the card closed again and handing it back. “Don’t look so surprised. Not all witches are four hundred years old.”

“How old _are_ you?” Link squinted up at him, wondering why Ganondorf bore more lines on his face than Nabooru.

Ganondorf swallowed. He clenched his jaw. He pulled another tight breath through his nose. “Twenty-eight.”

“That’s not _old_ at all,” said Link before he could think better of it.

“The Mother of Sands blessed her with beauty and cunning, and I with magic and strength and glorious purpose. It is what it is,” he said, his lip curling.

“I think you’re _both_ clever, and Nabooru hits harder than a Goron when she wants to,” said Link with a grin, tucking the precious membership card away. “Anyways, flowers and mountains are both beautiful, they’re just different.”

“You are a _strange_ child,” said Ganondorf quietly.

“People say that a lot. I’m not a kid anymore though. I’m nineteen, I think, and a master swordsman now. See the earloops?”

“You _think?_ ”

Link winced, telling himself firmly not to look away. His cheeks burned so fiercely it hurt. Many predators liked best to strike from behind, and Ganondorf was supposed to be the worst of all of them. “You can laugh, I don’t care.”

Ganondorf did not laugh. “Nineteen. You think.”

“Time is _different_ in Kokiri Forest,” said Link, annoyed that his face was probably pink as heartradish. “Before everything happened, when I first came to a city, people said I was small for my age. Nobody ever said that before, so I asked how old I looked to them. Most agreed I was about as tall as nine, but nobody could agree what told them I was older. I met a boy in Kakariko who _was_ nine though, and he seemed like a little kid to me. Malon was fifteen, and she definitely seemed smarter and older. Twelve would be in the middle.”

Ganondorf turned halfway, looking over his shoulder at the floating crystal with Zelda trapped inside. “You conscripted a _twelve year old motherless child_ to murder _me?_ ”

Zelda said nothing, or not in a way Link could hear.

Ganondorf swore softly, shaking his head.

“ _Technically_ she asked me to help her _stop_ you.”

Ganondorf snorted, slewing a sidelong glance at him.

“Grownups don’t listen to kids,” said Link, feeling awkward and helpless - and more than a little ashamed. When everything began, he was still so angry about the Great Deku Tree, and he had never seen a person die before. It seemed only fair at the time - but after he won the first fight with a _real_ moblin, he fell dreadfully ill, and death became very different from that day on.

“Most don’t,” agreed Ganondorf quietly. “Give me the Triforce, Link.”

“When did your eyes turn red?”

“Seven years ago. Stop drawing this out. There is no one coming to save you, to strengthen you, to join you. The crystal barrier will last as long as I _tell_ it to last. It is not _possible_ for _you_ to exhaust _me_ , howsoever many questions you invent to stall for time that holds no meaning for either of us. Surrender, and let this end.”

“Does it hurt?”

Ganondorf frowned.

“The thing that makes your eyes red. Does it hurt you? The magic that was on Nabooru hurt her too.”

Ganondorf frowned harder. “What magic.”

Link bit his tongue on the temptation to tease Navi for her mistake. He was right about the magic not being Ganondorf’s work - but he couldn’t celebrate solving that puzzle yet. “Twinrova forced me to fight Iron Knuckles when I confronted them in the Spirit Temple. One of them - the hardest one - had Nabooru trapped inside, feverish and babbling about your glory, and killing. They all wanted to make me a sacrifice to you, their dark master.”

Ganondorf moved in a strange, awkward fidget, shifting his weight and flexing his hands as if he suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with his body.

“I took her to the fortress healers after,” said Link quietly.

Ganondorf flexed his hands again, and folded his arms. He still shifted restlessly, and a moment later he propped one arm up to wedge his fist under his lip and scowl down at him.

“I’m sorry,” said Link.

“Sentiment is a deadly weakness.” Reflexive. Cold.

“That doesn’t sound right. Nayru’s Love is stronger than any shield, any blade, any magic,” countered Link, quiet but unyielding. “It’s ok to be sad. It doesn’t feel _nice_ , but it’s important, like draining poison from a cut, or drinking bitter medicine.”

Ganondorf grunted. He seemed to be waiting - but Link _couldn’t_ give him the one thing he kept asking for.

Link considered his silence, and the way he dismissed both apologies. The realization that he had another confession _hurt._ “Were Koume and Kotake really your mothers?”

“Were.” Ganondorf’s expression shifted not one grain, and his deep voice rumbled cold and curt as ever.

Link swallowed hard, though his throat was painfully tight. “They wouldn’t yield.”

Ganondorf snorted. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“My mother died when I was a baby, so I don’t know how you must feel to hear it. I do know it hurt really deep when you killed the Great Deku. He was father to all of us in the forest. It’s ok to be angry too, but hurting other people won’t make _your_ hurt stop.”

Ganondorf snorted. “That old stick was already starting to rot when I found him.”

Link frowned, confused.

Ganondorf shrugged, and unfolded his arms. His motion still lacked the fluid, bold grace of before, but he didn’t seem angry. “You have all the attention span of a month-old kitten.”

Link snorted in turn, folding his own arms and lifting his chin. It was not a _good_ guard stance, but Ganondorf raised a brow and tipped his chin as he reflected the king’s arrogance back at him. “I have studied nothing but _you_ since I opened the door. An _hour_ ago.”

“Hn. And to what possible benefit do you imagine these disorganized, foolish questions will lead you?”

Link shrugged. “There doesn’t have to be a prize at the end to make something worth doing.”

Ganondorf snorted in contempt. “Don’t _bother_ parading your pretense of virtue before _me_. I am the Great Evil King.”

“Does it make you happy to call yourself that?”

Ganondorf made a rude noise and tossed his hair back as if that would toss away the questions he didn’t like to answer.

“I am the bearer of Courage, and I promised to save Hyrule from sorrow and misery. Rauru sealed me away for seven years so I would be strong enough to do whatever was necessary, and terrible things have happened everywhere since the last time we met. It doesn’t make me happy to say most of those things, but they are true, and truth is important.”

“Does it look like I _care?_ ”

“No,” confessed Link. “You’re very good at that.”

Ganondorf frowned.

“Looking like you don’t care, I mean. Do you like cats?”

“What?”

“You said I seem like a kitten, so you know what they’re like. Grown-up cats practice looking like they don’t care all the time. Wild cats, house cats, all of them will act like they don’t care about _anything_ , especially when they’re not sure they’re safe, but if you move too fast or make a loud noise, you see they’ve been ready to run or pounce the whole time. I saw a lot of cats in the desert fortress when I was figuring out how to sneak past the jail guards. I didn’t see any cats here, but cats _are_ good at hiding. Did you have cats in your desert fortress before you came to Hyrule?”

“Storehouse cats are - important to my people,” said Ganondorf, his deep voice harsh and halting. “Snakes also. They hunt vermin that would steal our food.”

“I like good snakes too. Are you thirsty?”

Ganondorf moved his lips, frowning in confusion, but he made no sound.

Link opened his satchel again to fetch the half-bottle of water. He held it up in offering, but Ganondorf didn’t move. “It’s ok, I brought it from the forest. It’s not cold anymore, but it’s clean. I… forget which side I drank from. Here, take it, and I will find a clean handkerchief.”

“You come to the Dark Tower to offer the Evil King _water-?_ ” Ganondorf’s voice rose a little, cracked and incredulous.

“Would you prefer milk? It will take a day to run to LonLon and back, but-”

“ _Why?_ ” Ganondorf interrupted, gesturing oddly, his hands half open, and half clawed.

Link studied his opponent. Ganondorf was smart. He wasn’t asking about the journey or the time. “I haven’t seen or fought any Gerudo here. None of your people came east with you, did they?”

“No,” murmured Ganondorf.

“You say _my people_ and _our food_ , though you are alone.”

Ganondorf flinched. He took a half step back.

“You don’t have to answer to have the water. It is a gift. It makes me happy to give it to you, but if you don’t want to keep the bottle, please don’t break it. They’re not so easy to find as they were before.”

Ganondorf said nothing. He watched Link approach in silence. He did not retreat, and neither did he resist when Link caught his hand to make him take the bottle. 

Their Triforce pieces pulsed so bright and fast he had to squint to see anything, and a dizziness like jumping from the great waterfall in the canyon tumbled through his skin. “What does it feel like to you? When the Triforce does that?”

Ganondorf shook his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know words for it either. Kindof exciting though,” Link confessed with a wry grin.

Ganondorf shook his head, seeming confused and somehow anxious. His eyes were restless again, the red iris pinned so tight no pupil showed at all. He glanced down at the bottle in his hand, then at Link, and back to the bottle.

“It’s ok,” said Link.

Ganondorf shook his head no. Standing so close, Link noticed his curls were tangled, and his cuirass dull and grooved where his belt and buckles rubbed through the protective oils and smooth boiled hide. The seams and open fingers of his gloves were worn and frayed, his nails chipped and his fingertips reddened despite the calluses. He wore his armor a lot, and he played his strange instrument a lot, and he neglected many details of his own comfort. 

“Did you write that music, or is it a lament of your people?”

“I,” said Ganondorf, barely voicing the sound at all.

“I don’t _want_ to kill you,” said Link gently. 

“Triforce,” rasped Ganondorf.

“Why?”

“I need it,” whispered Ganondorf.

“ _Why?_ ”

Ganondorf raised his empty hand in a tortured claw, roaring at the gilded dome above them. “ _Can you not see?_ Look at me! Look at this land! Look at my own! Only the power of the gods can right any of this hellish imbalance. The Triforce _must_ be made whole and _then-!_ When I have restored the divine relic the gods will hear me - _must_ hear me!”

For all the agony in his voice and stance, he did not drop the water. Water was sacred to the desert people. Water was life. Water was hope.

“I promised to save Hyrule from sorrow and misery. Maybe you didn’t come to rule Hyrule the _right_ way, but still, you are king here and in your homeland. Legend says the sacred realm reflects the soul of whoever goes there, and that mortal lands reflect the spirits who guard it. Except for the golden gods, what higher guardian is there, than a King?”

“You _cannot_ help me - _only_ the Triforce,” cries Ganondorf, wild and mad. “ _Whomsoever lays his hand upon the Triforce shall have his desire granted_ . The gods _must_ hear me, _must_ give me power over the green wind that makes Hyrule healthy and happy and prosperous while my country suffers pestilence and famine and rot-!”

“Hyrule isn’t green anymore,” said Link, when the echo of his sorrow finally fell silent.

Ganondorf sighed mightily, and stared down at the bottle of water in his hand.

“What do you do with the Zora eggs?”

Ganondorf scowled at the bottle. “You did _not_ climb up here to demand a tour of the royal aquarium.”

“So - you keep them safe.”

Ganondorf huffed in irritation.

“Did you know Zora hibernate in the cold?”

Ganondorf rolled his eyes and glared down at him. “Must you _really_ persist in this stupidity? _Of course_ I am aware of Zora physiology.”

“The parasite in the lake _cannot_ endure cold though,” pressed Link. “That’s how I destroyed it. Ice arrows. The cage you built helped, but the infection still flourished in the Lakebed Temple, and the few Zora still trying to live in Lake Hylia - I hope they recover. Freezing the node-eyes kills the corruption, and stops it spreading.”

“ _And?_ I do not _care,_ ” snapped Ganondorf.

“It took a lot of magic to freeze the entire Domain and river, didn’t it?”

“ _Of course_ it - dammit-!” Ganondorf groaned, pivoting away.

“How many of the caged Goron did you feed to Volvagia?”

“I didn’t order a bloody _census_ ,” snapped Ganondorf over his shoulder.

“What _did_ you order?”

“That is none of your conc-”

“Three Goron were still in the City, and I guided seven back from the temple after I sealed Volvagia’s bones again. Darunia - I didn’t see enough to be sure, but I _think_ his sage power awakened because Volvagia divided his spirit from his body. Several of them are that way, like Impa, but not everyone. Saria cannot die, because she is Kokiri, and Rauru chose to live in the spirit realm until everything is ready for sealing it again.”

“What is your _point?_ ”

“You didn’t know _I_ carried the Triforce of Courage, but I don’t think even with enchanted armor that many people could walk into a lake or a volcano _without_ courage, or someone would have tried before me.”

“Yes? And? Do you want me to congratulate you on threading your clever way through all of my hero traps to annoy me in person?”

“I found all but three Gorons I knew seven years ago. It is not much different with the Zora, or your people, or the people of Castletown. A few have died, and others have run away, but nothing is quite as bad as it seems, when you really _look._ ”

Ganondorf sighed, shaking his head. His shoulders bowed, and his bright cloak trembled. He did not laugh. “Some things are _worse._ ”

Link watched him stand apart in his private sorrows, letting his mind wander through the vast array of things he’d seen and heard and done since the day Navi bullied him out of a nightmare of flame and dark laughter. He didn’t try to focus on anything, but let his mind relax, like he was resting his eyes on a puzzle without striving for any solution.

“Would fairy magic help?”

Ganondorf turned his head a little - not enough to see his expression, but enough to know he heard, at least.

“If you ask nicely, one of my little fairy friends might use her healing magic for you. Maybe your eyes won’t hurt anymore. Or hurt less, anyway.”

“Why?” Ganondorf rasped.

“Because helping is the right thing to do,” said Link, rubbing at the back of his neck. He couldn’t remember taking a wound there, but it felt raw and prickly all the same. “And I think - fighting isn’t the best way to solve most puzzles. I can’t give you what you want, but I can listen, and I can help, and I can be your friend.”

Ganondorf turned further, frowning at him.

“I think Zelda will be unhappy even when you let her go, but if you do _not_ let her go, she won’t get a chance to try. And I think - neither will you.”

“Zelda has been trying to kill me for _eight years,_ Link. There is no chance whatsoever of happiness between us, and never was.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” said Link, frowning up at the crystal prison.

“Much that is true, doesn’t.” Ganondorf countered bitterly.

“Have you ever tried _talking_ to her? The way _we_ are talking?”

Ganondorf snorted in contempt.

“You both want the same thing, you know. The Triforce. The power of the gods themselves. You both want to be stronger than anyone else, ever. I used to think strength was everything too, but it’s really not. There will _always_ be someone or something stronger than you can ever become, no matter what magic you have.”

“The Triforce is more than mere strength. It is the power to manifest _anything_ , everything. No force of heaven or hell can stand against the wish of he who holds it complete.”

“I would, if your wish was hurting people. Laugh if you like, but it is true. I never know for _sure_ if I will see the other side of a fight, or a puzzle, or a leap, or a labyrinth. Facing you isn’t any different.”

“You _are_ courageous,” agreed Ganondorf with a little shake of his head. He did not laugh. “ _Stupid_ , but courageous.”

“The Triforce of Courage came to me because Heroes need to be brave, and Power went to you because no matter what you say would _do_ with the magic, being more powerful than anyone in the world is what you wanted most of all.”

Ganondorf snorted softly, and slewed a bitter look towards the crystal prison. “And of course your _beloved Princess_ craves all the knowledge in the world. She was already convinced of her superior understanding when I came to Hyrule to deal with her idiot father. Bearing the Triforce of Wisdom persuades her further of her own perfection, and feeds her delusion that the gods favor her in all things. She is too weak and foolish to make proper use of it, and its sublime glory is too much for her to _ever_ comprehend.”

“What _is_ a proper use of wisdom? How could wisdom give you command of the wind when power didn’t?”

“Hn,” said Ganondorf, shaking his head at the captive princess. “One must first understand anything one seeks to control.”

“That’s why the lock was outside,” said Link softly. The words felt like the click of steel tumblers dropping into their resting places. The entirety of chaos and darkness radiating from Ganondorf’s dark tower seemed to shift inside his mind, and the pattern weighed on his heart as much as any golden lock ever weighed in his hand. No tangible door divided him from the troubled king, but nonetheless he knew he stood on the threshold. One more step, and he could never go back. Battle would be joined, and everything outside it would cease to matter until one of them captured the final victory.

The thought of speaking the pattern felt like the sound of blessed steel sliding from the bright sheepskin sheath Rauru had given him to carry the Master Sword into the dark world. His words would cut and hurt the man if he brought them out. The Triforce of Power _was_ too much for him to control, and when he tried to use it without the other two pieces to balance the relic, disaster fell everywhere. 

Ganondorf knew it was true. _Had_ known for seven years. It would be unkind to push on the wound, and serve no better purpose, not yet.

But - even as the wild and ravenous magic destroyed good and bright things, even as the truth hurt him deeply, Ganondorf used the fierce Will and Strength he already had on that day seven years ago to blunt the harm. 

Ganondorf did not know how to quiet Volvagia’s vengeful bones, but he could use his sheer power to seal them in a shrine. He could not make the Goron leave their mountain or persuade them to flee Volvagia’s rage, but he could cage them to keep them from going into the heart of the deadly shrine, and keep Darunia distracted trying to free his people. 

Ganondorf did not know how to cure the madness of the rabid parasite in Lake Hylia, but he could bottle it with his immense power. He did not know how to cure the Zora touched by it, but he could buy time forcing them into hibernation by using his power to freeze their homeland, and he could reward people for bringing him Zora eggs so he could keep them safe in clean water.

Ganondorf did not know how to make the green winds return and revive Hyrule, or make his country flourish and prosper, or how to heal the secret hurts that drove him to search ceaselessly for the divine relic alone, but he could use his power to cage the miasma of death he carried. And - he could weave paths and puzzles and prizes all over the world to bring wise and brave spirits to the places most in need of their help.

Leaving himself for last.

Waiting.

Pouring his heart into a song of rage and misery and sorrow.

Standing under the lure of the most valuable prize he could capture with his back turned to the door of his cage, as he stood now, baring his back to his enemy. 

Waiting.

Expecting to be struck down.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” said Link at last. “The Triforce is resonating because we are together again, but they are not like sliding puzzle blocks we can push into one place to unlock the magic. Maybe they are like torches we have to light at the same time, or mirrors that have to reflect the Light together.”

“Then it is hopeless,” said Ganondorf, his voice raw and rough. “Zelda will never yield her hatred.”

“Did you ask?”

Ganondorf said nothing.

“Can she see us? Hear us?”

Ganondorf nodded, once.

“Can you hear her?”

“Unfortunately.”

Link propped his fists on his hips and frowned up at the crystal. “Eight years.”

“Yes,” agreed Ganondorf.

“Which of you drew first?”

“She would say I did,” Ganondorf scoffed, but under his rasping deep voice Link caught the sound of a tiny, telltale _pop_.

“Seven years ago, Nabooru said you stole from women and children, and even killed people. She said she became a lone wolf thief because she would not bow to an evil king. Yet Zelda said - and I saw it too - you bowed to the king of Hyrule _before_ that day. You argued about the treaty, didn’t you? About how to end the civil war?”

Ganondorf nodded.

“You wanted to be king of Hyrule, and you wanted the Triforce, but she _knew_ you planned to betray the King even before you bowed,” said Link slowly, walking the words over his tongue as he would walk his fingers over a knot to find the loose string.

“Sounds like her,” said Ganondorf with a snort, tipping his head back. A telltale shimmer betrayed the bottle in his hand. He drank the forest water at last. He accepted the gift. He admitted his thirst for life and hope, at least in his heart of hearts, if not yet his mind. “Do you know the history of how _he_ became king?”

“No,” confessed Link, listening to the squeak and pop of Ganondorf returning the cork to the empty bottle.

“He married her mother,” said Ganondorf. He shook his head at the captive princess again, and turned to face Link again, toying with the empty bottle. “That’s how Kings of Hyrule rise. Sovereignty does not pass in agnatic succession as in foreign lands, nor a holy trial to confirm the claim of a man or a chief as with my people, but belongs to the motherline of Hylia. One becomes rightful King of Hyrule solely by marriage… or seizing the Zelda of his generation by sword and subjugation.”

“We were kids back then,” said Link with a frown.

“Maybe _you_ were. Zelda was _fifteen_ when I suggested the betrothal to her father, to strengthen the bond between our countries. Five pitiful little years are not an uncrossable or uncommon distance. Do you have any idea how many _years_ royal weddings take to arrange properly? Anyways, combining the spectacle of wedding and coronation makes the most of the pomp and glitter, and least of the tedium,” said Ganondorf with a shrug and another toss of his wild red hair.

“She refused.”

“Vehemently.”

“She said you had evil eyes,” began Link.

“Among other things,” interrupted Ganondorf with a bitter snort. He held out the empty bottle, gesturing for Link to take it. Honoring his request, small and insignificant though it was.

“It is dishonorable to force her by sword and magic when she did not agree,” said Link, taking the empty bottle.

“I didn’t touch her,” snapped Ganondorf with a harsh gesture. “I don’t _need_ her. Only the Triforce. Give me that which you bear and all of this will be over.” 

“Is he telling the truth, Zelda? Did you attack when he offered friendship?” Link squinted at the crystal prison. He couldn’t tell if she moved in answer, or if she spoke.

But - _Ganondorf_ could. He snorted and looked away from both of them, hands curling into fists at his side.

“It is dishonorable to attack people seeking peace, and it is unkind to say the way someone _looks_ is evil. Maybe he is not very good at being king alone, but _nobody_ is at their best when they’re alone. The desert lands _are_ harsh and dangerous - but they are _beautiful_ , and the Gerudo who live there are strong. They are stern with outsiders, but they are good friends to have when you earn their respect. They do steal sometimes, but I’ve had to steal sometimes too, when there wasn’t any other way. Maybe Ganondorf didn’t tell you the whole truth all at once, but you didn’t tell _me_ the whole truth either.”

Ganondorf laughed, low and dark, shaking his head. “You are a _fool_ , kid. A brave, but nonetheless hopeless fool, too stupid to cower like the rest of your kind. Do you really think a pathetic little trifle and a heap of weak little pointless _words_ will defeat the Great King of Evil? Draw that pitiful little blade and face me like a proper warrior if you dare.”

“I’m not much younger than you were on that day,” countered Link, turning his attention to the lonely king with the demon eyes. “Many of the monsters I faced in the shrines and temples had yellow-and-red eyes like you do now. In the temple under the lake I met the hardest of all, except for Nabooru, and his eyes were _all_ red.”

“I don’t _care_ . Give me the Triforce or _fight_ ,” growled Ganondorf.

Link shook his head. “I think you _do_ care, and I think… you _know_ fighting won’t make the Triforce fit back together. I think you have been alone and hurting in the dark a long time, and I don’t think your death would make anything better. I _know_ it would make _me_ sad.”

“ _You?_ Would _mourn_ the _Evil King?_ ” Ganondorf scoffed, gesturing wide and incredulous, open and vulnerable.

“No, I would mourn _Ganondorf,_ ” corrected Link gently. “We don’t have to be enemies forever. Your destiny doesn’t have to be sad. You have a choice. I have a choice. Zelda has a choice. I had to overcome my shadow to be here now. Maybe it is your turn. I can help, if you let me.”

Ganondorf’s eyes flared wide, and he turned sharply, looking up at the crystal prison.

Link waited, wondering what Zelda said to her captor. She was clever, and she held the Triforce of Wisdom. She might know what was hurting Ganondorf, and how to heal him. 

“No. There is only _one_ way to overpower Ganon. Gods cannot be defeated by mere mortals,” said Ganondorf to his captive.

“Not if the Triforce working together can manifest _anything_ ,” said Link, studying the patterns in his harsh words, in the choices he’d made in seven years of lonely battle to master the power he needed so desperately, in his taunts and invitations to violence, and his urgent plea for Link to give him Courage, so poorly masked as command. “I didn’t know you were named for a god. He must not be very nice. But you don’t have to be like him just because you share his name. Let her go.”

Ganondorf flexed and clenched his hands, his jaw so tight the vein in his neck jumped mightily. He did not try to speak, but his eyes seemed to gain a frightening light the longer he stared up at Zelda in her crystal.

“Promise not to attack when he takes the barrier down. Promise you will not hit first,” said Link, lifting his chin. “And _honor_ your promise.”

Ganondorf snorted, and curled his lip, bitter and cold. “She says _or else what? You cannot betray your oath, Hero of Time._ I told you this hopeless gambit would be a meaningless waste of effort. _She_ will not yield. _I_ cannot yield. It is not in your nature to yield. Destiny is what it is.”

“You don’t really believe that,” said Link gently.

“You know nothing,” scoffed Ganondorf, looking away.

“I know you drank the water, _and_ you gave the bottle back,” said Link, edging closer, offering an open hand. Maybe it _was_ rude in his country, but Ganondorf had lived in Hyrule nearly a third of his life. He would understand the gesture meant peace, and maybe he secretly missed having people close to him after he argued with Nabooru so long ago. “Water is life, and both are sacred. If your hope was truly broken, if you really believed our destiny meant you had to die in this tower to defeat the shadow inside you, if you had lost all faith in goodness, water wouldn’t mean anything to you anymore and neither would honor. You would have attacked me first, and you would have wasted the water and the bottle.”

Ganondorf sighed.

Link brushed the back of his hand with his fingertips.

Ganondorf’s hand jerked taut, like a cat stretching his claws wide to hold fast to his ground, but he didn’t pull away. He seemed to be breathing hard, though he stood very still. 

Link slipped his hand around the side of the man’s broad gloved hand to splay his fingers across his palm in invitation. He felt awkward and small beside the towering Gerudo king, but he wasn’t really any taller than the rest of his people, or if he was, it couldn’t be by much. His black armor and his dense muscles only made him _seem_ bigger and scarier and more dangerous than other people. “What makes you happy, Ganondorf?”

Ganondorf turned his head so slowly he seemed like a rusty armos just beginning to stir awake. His eyes glowed with a strange and forbidding light, but telltale reflections hid in the kohl-stained creases at the corners.

“In the dark, you can’t see shadows, but that also means you can’t see things that _make_ shadows. That doesn’t make the dark _bad_ , just dangerous. But I am not afraid of you,” said Link, grasping his strong hand to prove it. “I would like to be your friend, and I would like to help you overcome the things making shadows in your heart. It would make me happy. I like making new friends, and I like helping. It feels nice. Would that make you happy, Ganondorf?”

“I - you - _impossible,_ ” rasped Ganondorf. He did not pull away. His hand twitched, and his fingers curled and stretched like he wasn’t sure whether to return his grasp or not. 

“Let Zelda out of the magic crystal barrier,” said Link gently, holding his gaze. Holding his hand.

“Even _if_ she honored your request - I don’t _have_ seven more years to pursue her a second time,” said Ganondorf, gesturing dismissively with his free hand.

Link shook his head and pressed Ganondorf’s hand. “The ceaseless flow of time _can_ be cruel, but that doesn’t mean it _must_ be. You don’t have to end here, no matter what your god and your shadows say.”

“I am the Great Evil King Ganondorf. I am the most powerful sorcerer in the world. I am the Chosen of Power, son of the Sands, Lord of Thunder-”

“Don’t lose hope just because you can’t overcome Ganon alone. Even the Golden Godddesses had to work together to make the world become, you know.”

Ganondorf snorted, quiet and breathy. Rather like a horse, huffing in query or greeting or grumpiness.

“I will be your friend,” said Link. “And I will help you as much as I can. Maybe you’re right that Zelda _won’t_ help us, but maybe if you let her go and ask nicely, maybe she will let you earn her respect like I did to become Nabooru’s friend. You won’t know unless you give her the freedom to choose.”

Ganondorf drew a slow breath, and closed his eyes. The magic crystal floated down from its place above the stone arch, and as the point settled into the red carpet, it shattered. 

Zelda stumbled, tripping over the hem of her long dress, and hissed something impolite. 

Ganondorf did not move, or even open his eyes. His strong hand seemed to grow cold. 

“It’s ok to be afraid,” whispered Link, grasping his hand tight. “I’m not going to leave you. You’re not alone.”

“Ganondorf Dragmire, you are a horrid, pathetic creature. You are not even a successful _bandit_ ,” sneered Zelda.

“That is unkind,” said Link firmly. “People make mistakes.”

“His heart is too corrupt and imbalanced to control the power of the gods, and his mind is too _weak_ to withstand the voice of evil,” she snapped, smoothing her skirts and her golden hair, straightening her jeweled circlet. “You cannot let his corruption infect you, Link.”

“That is _also_ unkind,” said Link, shaking his head at her. “I’m not as smart as you, but I’m not stupid. Ganondorf hasn’t _forced_ me to do anything except raise my hand and stay in one spot for a minute, and maybe that’s not _nice_ , but it’s not _evil_ . It’s not even _mean_ , and most people will do a lot worse if they think you want to kill them.”

Zelda scowled at him, and the quiet king by his side.

“Did the crystal barrier hurt you?”

“Not - _inherently_ ,” grumbled Zelda, clenching her gloved hands. The white silk was stained gray around the knuckles.

“Apart from words, has Ganondorf _ever_ hurt you?”

“He killed my father! He killed Vah Sharp and Vah Flat! He killed dozens - hundreds - _thousands_ \- of Hylian citizens in the war! He killed Zora and Goron and spirits and he massacred the people of Castletown and-”

“Those are three very different-sized numbers,” said Link gravely. “Which one is true, Zelda? I have had to kill people and creatures too - does that make me evil?”

“Thousands,” said Ganondorf quietly. “I have led my people in war, and I have led Hylian armies. War is never kind. _Thousands_ is the correct number, Link.”

“You must break a lot of swords and spears. Or do you only fight with magic?”

Ganondorf opened his tired red-and-yellow demon eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. “War is not the same as - the fighting you know. The _army_ is a sword.”

“You mean _everyone_ your warriors kill is your fault?”

“As is every warrior who falls before the enemy. That is how war works,” said Ganondorf.

Link considered his calm tone and terrible words. He turned to Zelda, who remained near the lingering glitter of the shattered magic crystal. “I am your Champion, the Hero of Hyrule, and that is kindof like being a very little army. So - I am _your_ sword, aren’t I?”

Ganondorf snorted. “Your brave little hero is smarter than he looks.”

“This is irrelevant. No matter what trickery and treachery you bring to bear, you _cannot_ prevail,” said Zelda, her golden voice echoing under the gilded dome far above.

“I think it _does_ matter. Your father killed _thousands_ of thousands to make other kings bow to _him_ , and to put Hylian people in charge of the whole world. I don’t think peace is the right word for the papers everyone signed to end the civil war eight years ago.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Zelda.

“I think - I haven’t heard him say half so many mean things as you say about him - and to him,” said Link, imagining their words like rupees and pebbles spilled over clean earth. Red and blue and green for words of passion and truth and bravery. Shiny black obsidian for words that cut, fragile gray chalk for false words, dull brown sandstone for words of despair. Zelda’s side would be a swath of red and black and gray, with few glimmers of blueness. Ganondorf’s would be a heap of brown, seeded with dangerous obsidian shards, but everywhere light slipped between rock, it would bloom with radiant color.

“A man may smile and still be a demon,” said Zelda primly.

“Oh, but he _doesn’t_ smile yet,” countered Link, pressing Ganondorf’s hand to offer him a quiet reassurance.

“I _did_ warn you,” said Ganondorf dryly. He did not pull away. 

“Why do you hate him so much?”

“I can see his wicked heart! If he is not stopped now, the things he will do will be worse than even this. All the darkness and evil he has brought into the world already is a fraction of what he would have done and might still do but for us.”

“And _I’m_ the barbarian,” scoffed Ganondorf.

“How can you be sure _we_ are the ones who stopped him?”

“ _Preposterous_ ,” snapped Zelda.

“Am I evil?”

“Do not let his treachery stain your mind - you must stand strong and unwavering to defeat his evil,” she said.

“I have had to kill sometimes, to solve the puzzles and cleanse the shrines. I have had to steal; to eat, to unlock roads, to reach the lake and the desert. I have had to tell lies about who I am, and what I am doing, or what I will use something for. Am I evil for doing these evil things?”

“He is trying to distract you Link, weaken you with doubt and despair. You must not let him win or all of Hyrule will wither in darkness.”

“Answer your Hero, Princess. Reassure him that his spirit is as bright as mine is dark. Tell him nothing is his fault. Tell him everything he has done was in service of the greater good. Tell him his deeds are righteous because his purpose is righteous and the gods smile on his fair head,” said Ganondorf, his hand cold and tense as his deep, rough voice. 

Zelda scowled, and though her eyes were once again deepest blue, she looked as fierce as Sheik ever did. “I will not yield to your faithless tricks, and neither will he. The hero has defeated every shadow - his heart is pure and incorruptible. You cannot win!”

“Oh, but it _isn’t_ , and you _know_ this or you wouldn’t warn me not to listen to him,” said Link, shaking a finger at her. “I carry a shadow in my heart too. I sometimes think terrible things, and my thoughts are not always brave either, even with this part of the Triforce to help me. Am I evil for thinking these things?”

Zelda scoffed. “You are the hero. You have defeated the shadowed side of yourself. You don’t _do_ the wicked acts the shadows tempt you with.”

“Thinking evil things does not make me evil?”

“ _He is lying to you_ ,” snapped Zelda.

Link glanced up at the quiet king with his clenched jaw and his rigid stance. “You’re not doing magic secretly right now, are you?”

“No,” said Ganondorf, with a tiny shake of his head that made his bright, heavy topaz earrings dance. “I am the Great Evil King. You might say I am somewhat of an _expert_ on _evil_ . Far more than a sheltered, pious maiden who reveres light and shuns the impure. Ask _me_ , Hero, and _I_ will tell you what your princess cannot.”

“Do not listen to his evil lies-!”

Link studied her, the trembling fury in her gloved fists, in the square set of her shoulders and the dense rigidity of her muscular arms. “ _Can_ you tell if my heart is evil?”

“Of course-” she began. 

“The same way you see _his_ heart?”

She opened her mouth to speak, and then didn’t. Her white teeth clicked sharply. 

Link drew a deep breath and shouted: “ _Am I evil?_ ” 

“No,” said Ganondorf, while his shout still echoed under the great golden dome and hummed in the bright pipes of Ganondorf’s vast instrument.

“No,” agreed Zelda through clenched teeth. 

Link lifted his chin, holding her gaze. He did not need to speak the pattern that shaped the other edge of the blade. As with Ganondorf, he did not need to draw it from the sheath of silence for his opponent to see the sharpness of the truth cleaving the light. He did not need to approach the threshold for her to see that one more step would carry _her_ into battle this time.

“That toy is too much for you,” said Ganondorf, his deep voice filling the room, even though he spoke softly. He raised his free hand, beckoning. “I command you to return it to me.”

“ _Never_.”

“Why can’t you help us, and be friends? We share the Triforce, and if we worked together, we could each use our piece to work on the puzzle of defeating Ganon and healing Hyrule and bringing real peace for _everyone_ , and not just Hylians.”

“I will never bow to an evil king,” snapped Zelda.

Link hummed in thought. Nabooru had once cried the same thing, and when she suspected him of working for her brother, she attacked him with a sudden and vicious efficiency. The fairies struggled to heal him after, even though his fall had been swift, because her curved swords cut very deep. Their argument eight years ago must have been very bad - and yet Ganondorf struggled to hide his distress at hearing of her misfortunes.

Ganondorf pressed his hand. Briefly, but clearly on purpose, a quiet hint of _some_ manner of private feeling just before he pulled his hand away. His broad, callused fingers brushed over Link’s shoulder as he stepped forward. Light seemed to gather around his other hand, and his voice rumbled with a dangerous, chill edge. “Refusing the wind of peace _is_ embracing the fire of war. Give me that which you bear and this will all be over. The burden of knowing _too much_ is destroying you, Princess. You cannot control it. You cannot winnow fact from figment, past from possible. _Give it to me-!_ ”

“Remember your promise,” shouted Link, watching lightning crawl up the man’s arm and over his hand. Every moment added more strands to the snapping, sparking coils of light. He was ready to throw the magic. More than ready. Seven years ago he wove a ball of lightning _and_ cast it in less than three breaths. It stung, even in memory, though the lightning itself didn’t actually hurt as bad as skinning his knee on the road when he fell under the light. 

“Link, now is not the time for daydreams,” cried Navi, emerging from the shadows under his hat solely to nag him. “You have to do something! Save Zelda before it’s too late!”

“Save her from what though? He could have hit her a dozen times already and you see he is still holding back,” said Link. 

“ _For now-!_ This is your chance - maybe the _only_ chance, while he is distracted attacking her, you can find a weak point,” cried Navi.

“But he _isn’t_ ,” said Link, moving to follow the fierce king as he stalked the retreating princess around the golden chamber. “She attacks with words, and he raises a shield of light.”

“Shields can be weapons, Link! You _know_ this! You have to act now, stop the evil king _now_ before it is too late,” begged Navi.

“What if he’s not _evil_ at all? People make mistakes. Especially people who are hurting. Do you think one of our fairy friends can help him?”

“ _Link_ , _please,_ ” moaned Navi, bouncing and circling him in nervous fidgets. “How can you think about the _enemy_ before the _princess?_ What is _wrong_ with you?”

Link hummed in thought, opening his satchel. “You’re right. Maybe they both need fairies. Hello, little ones. I need you to come out now.”

_You’re doing so good!_

_You can win this - don’t lose heart!_

_You haven’t taken any hurts we can heal!_

“I found some friends who can’t ask for your help on their own. How close do I need to be when I open your bottle for you to help them instead?”

_We can’t!_

_They didn’t catch us!_

_It’s forbidden to help unless they ask!_

“You heal me when I fall, even though I _can’t_ ask,” he countered.

_You don’t have to ask when you die-_

_-because catching is asking in the now-_

_-for help in the later when the bottle opens._

“And the cork is a kind of lesser magic, so it ends when I fall,” he mused. “Why is it against the rules to ask for a friend? If they take your bottle from me, does that count?”

_It is the Golden Law governing all worlds and all beings - nothing may be created invulnerable nor destroyed forever in all worlds, but only changed._

_Everything has an equal and opposite - a reflection and a shadow - which move together to maintain balance._

_For every question, there is a wrong answer and a right - for every choice, a fair and a foul - for every act, a joy and a sorrow._

_Mortals are the most fragile of all beings - and in balance your hearts feel so much that immortals can’t - you can imagine and create as we cannot._

_You can only use a tiny shard of the immense power in your passions and gratitude and wonder, in your hatreds and resentments and fears, because your bodies are frail and your lives short -_

_But immortals can use it - transmute it - consume it -_

“Gods and fairies are immortal - demons must be too.” Link said softly, glancing toward the king and princess circling one another with magic in their hands. “Does it hurt a mortal when you eat their feelings?”

_It can hurt you, change you, or even kill you._

_But it doesn’t have to, if you give your pain and passion freely._

_You can’t ask for them, because you can’t give us their feelings to transform._

_To give a shard of our life to a mortal to revive them as they ask, we give our magic to take their pain and hurt into ourselves and transform it into healing, and must return to a holy spring to restore our strength._

_If a mortal has not asked for help in word or act, we take their free will and their death, and must also give them ours._

_Forever._

“Can I give you mine, to use for them?” Link whispered, ignoring Navi’s anxious whirling and ringing and shrill little shouts. The three little fairies buzzed and fretted in their bottles, chattering between themselves in the secret language of fairies.

_We do not like it-!_

_But we cannot forbid your gift-!_

_Without a fourth sister, you cannot help both and live -_

_You must fall for one -_

_And because you caught us, one of us must revive you -_

_But neither of them bears a mortal wound yet._

“Link - oh _Link_ \- what are you _doing_ you crazy boy?” Navi screeched, bouncing mad circuits around his head as he took the bottles from his satchel one by one and lined them up at the edge of the crimson rug.

“Can you wait to help me up, if I ask now? To give them a chance to ask?” Link asked, stringing his bow.

_Not for long -_

_Human bodies are so very fragile -_

_Your spirit will be drawn toward the land of the dead -_

_We cannot follow you into that place -_

_No creature of light can -_

_It’s dangerous -_

Link smiled, nocking two arrows full of light. “I am not afraid.”

“ _NO!_ ” Navi shrieked, as the golden arrows arced through the golden room.

“I give my life for his,” said Link quietly, as both bolts found their marks - one in lavender silk, the other in black armor. The backlash of his broken oaths to protect and serve both Zelda and Sheik struck him in the same heartbeat, Ganondorf’s reflexive magic lightning shields stung him as he fell, and the first pink fairy wept as she drained the rest of his strength for healing the King of Evil.

“ _You missed-!_ How could you _miss?_ You _foolish_ boy,” howled Ganondorf, dropping his unfinished spell and stumbling forward to catch the princess, apparently indifferent to the crawling sting of lightshocks rippling out from the bright bolt and spreading bloody shadow in his own shoulder. 

Arrows spilled from Link’s quiver as his body fell. He didn’t look like much of a hero, his white hose snagged and dirty, his green tunic and cap threadbare, too tight, too short, and bloodstained. His boots needed fresh soles again, and the vambraces which helped him lift immense weight and control enormously powerful weapons looked merely awkward and clumsy. Ganondorf was right to laugh. It seemed absurd that a ragged youth from the misty woods should confront a sorcerous king.

Link turned away from his body to watch the sluggish flight of the sorrowful pink fairy.

“ _Oh_ what have you _done-?_ How could you _miss?”_ Ganondorf cried, kneeling unsteadily on bloody stones with the Hylian princess cradled to his chest. Light danced around his fingers where he touched the bright red blossom spoiling pale white flesh and pale lavender silk. “Oh _Zelda_ , look at me - don’t close your eyes - stay - you _must_ stay awake or I can’t take the pain - don’t waste breath on curses you fool. I already know, ok? I know, I know, I have ever been a monster - you don’t need to say it, just stay awake for me - I mean not for _me_ but - I - I need _time_ to repair the vein your idiot hero caught. Ok? Listen to me, just stay another minute. Just one more little minute, Zelda. You can do it.”

Link smiled, drifting closer. He couldn’t hear Navi fretting anymore, but she flew anxious tangles around him even so. He wondered why he could hear Ganondorf so clearly, but not the fairies. He felt sorry for the man’s pain, especially when the pink fairy reached his side and poured her magic over the arrow in _his_ shoulder instead of Zelda’s as the furious king demanded. He bellowed terrible words and tried to catch her in his bloody hand. She darted away, her pink light trembling in fear.

“He can see fairies,” Link said to no one in particular, strangely pleased to know he wasn’t the only one.

Ganondorf’s furious demon eyes snapped towards him - not his body, but his spirit. He roared something that was probably a _very_ bad word in his own language. 

Several bad words.

Link waited for him to draw breath. He folded his hands behind his back, and offered an encouraging smile as the demon king cursed him a hundred ways. The fairy hadn’t been able to fix his eyes, but Link hoped she’d been able to ease the pain, at least a little.

“ _Look_ what you’ve _done_ you blundering, midge-witted-”

“I didn’t miss,” said Link.

Ganondorf howled in wordless horror and rage, cradling Zelda as close to his bloody chest as the bright arrow shaft allowed.

Link glanced back toward his body and the two anxious fairies fretting in their bottles. The golden room seemed much bigger than it did a moment ago. 

“ _Fairies_ . Stupid, no-account, blithering idiot _fairies_ ,” Ganondorf snarled as he pushed to his feet. Zelda seemed small and fragile in his arms, though Link knew well the wiry strength of Sheik. He stalked past Link with his red and gold cloak billowing behind him. He seemed twice as tall as before.

Link followed, clutching at the golden fringe of the cloak because it was so very hard to keep up with the long strides of the Gerudo king.

“You _fool_ boy, you fool, you _hopeless_ clumsy _fool_ ,” Ganondorf snarled at his body.

Navi flew in furious sharp zags between his body and his spirit. Link didn’t need to hear her to know what she wanted of him this time.

“Hold _on_ Zelda, stop trying to _talk_ ,” Ganondorf demanded as he knelt beside the little row of bottles. He fumbled to turn the princess toward them and grabbed her delicate wrist. “Reach for the - _stop_ , don’t fight me. You _have_ to touch the bottle. It has to be you - I can’t - not _me_ , the _bottle_ . Zelda _please_ for the love of all that’s holy it won’t work if I _make_ you do it - I can only help you get close. You have to stretch your hand out. You _must_ reach. You’re running out of time you fool!” 

“You can do it. I believe in you,” said Link, hoping she could hear him. His voice sounded small, and he had to stretch to see over Ganondorf’s knee. “All you have to do is ask for help.”

“ _Stop trying to talk-!”_ Ganondorf bellowed, his rage filling the whole world. “Your idiot hero is _gone_ because he couldn’t hit the biggest godsforsaken target standing ten paces from his stupid nose. The only hope left for your world is that _wretched_ bottle _and_ _you must reach for it or I will destroy the Light itself do you hear me?”_

Link tried to touch the folds of Ganondorf’s bright cloak to reassure him that Zelda _would_ do the right thing, if he was patient, but his hand passed through the cloth. It didn’t make any sense. Hardly a minute ago he’d wound his fist in the bright fringe at the hem. He shook his head to clear the strangeness away. It didn’t matter. As soon as Zelda asked for help, the third bright fairy would be free to help him back up too. “It will all be ok in the end.”

“No - nonononono - _nothing_ will _ever_ be ok now,” moaned Ganondorf, bowing over the bloody princess in his arms. His deep voice was rough and raw and barely louder than his shuddering breath. “How can you let Him win? How can you be so cruel? _This wasn’t how we were supposed to end._ ”

Link hummed to himself, wandering through the misty radiance of the red and gold cloak, marveling at the undulating curves in the weave. The gold patterns reminded him of the graceful Gerudo script, and he wondered if the designs meant something, or meant more than being pretty to look at. “I didn’t know you could see the future like Zelda and the Great Deku. How was the Age of Destiny supposed to go, Ganondorf? What happens in _your_ legend?”

The Gerudo King shook his head as Link emerged through the other side of the cloak to stand in the puddle of pink silk of Zelda’s flowing skirts. Ganondorf’s sharp white teeth cut his words into jagged pieces, where before he spoke with elegance and pride. “Prophecy is not my gift, nor true healing, not even with a piece of the greatest power ever forged in my hand. Zelda, _please_ , I can take the pain away, I can weave the wound back together tighter and faster than any surgeon in the world, but I _can’t_ put your hand on the bottle. You’re supposed to be the best and brightest soul in all the world, good and kind and radiant, the guiding light in the darkest night, the steadfast anchor in the hungriest wind. You _can’t_ just let Him win to spite _me_.”

Link gazed up at his sharp features contorted with fragile fury, and he suddenly understood why Ganondorf’s skin creased in so many places his elder sister’s did not. “But you didn’t know she shared part of the Triforce until today. Or is it yesterday, now? It’s hard to tell time in the dark.”

“The trap crystal triggered seventy-one hours ago,” said Ganondorf, closing his red-and-yellow eyes. His hand remained steady, holding Zelda’s so close to the shining fairy bottle she only needed to stretch her fingers to touch it. He exhaled short and sharp, dismissive of Link’s wonderment at his certainty. “I learned to mark hours from pitch nothingness even with no possibility of movement through silent recitations long, long ago.”

“That doesn’t sound like a nice kind of lesson,” said Link.

Ganondorf shook his head no.

“Three days in a crystal does sound like a pretty long time. I don’t really remember anything from the seven years I was in the temple, but you let her stay awake. Maybe she is too tired and hungry to ask for help,” said Link softly, glancing nervously at Zelda’s pale hand because he couldn’t hop high enough to see her face anymore. His spirit shrank a little more with every passing moment. He wondered how much longer he would have before his spirit was smaller than a fairy, and if that was a part of why they couldn't help him if he stayed fallen too long. He wondered how long it would be before the land of the dead pulled him away from where he fell, or if it would take him at all, after his many mistakes.

“From the first story I ever heard of the miracles performed by the descendents of Hylia, I have longed from the shadows to know that light. From the first gilded icon I ever saw of the Golden Goddesses giving free will to mortals, I have hunted for the Divine Relic. From the moment you pulled the Blessed Sword and released more of that decrepit snarl of ruination I knew the Sacred Realm lay open and at last I could touch the Triforce and change my stars,” he said, his voice thinning and dropping away more with every word until his rich thunderous rumble was a gravelly hiss of breath and bitterness. “It was never more than a hopeless dream, was it? _I am the Great Evil King_.”

“You don’t have to be,” said Link, reaching up to touch his knee, even though he knew he couldn’t really touch anything anymore. Ganondorf would still know he tried, and maybe that would be enough. “We don’t have to fight just because we’re different, or because the people before us fought, or even because _we_ fought and hurt each other before and could again if we listen to the bad thoughts more than the good ones.”

Ganondorf shook his head no. His broad thumb traced a tiny whorl against Zelda’s gloved wrist. He whispered yet another plea to the shivering, wounded princess in his arms. “If you believe the legends, you _must_ reach for the fairy. Evil is supposed to _lose_ , Zelda.”

“Tell her you’re sorry in smaller words. It’s harder to hear big words when you’re hurting,” said Link, wishing very badly that he could touch them both and hold their hands to share his courage with them. 

Ganondorf opened his eyes a very little, and the question in his glare was so heavy and wretched Link wondered how he could wear so much pain without weeping.

“I know a lot about hurting too,” said Link, lifting his chin. “I know how betrayal feels inside my skin, and grief, and hunger. I know about being lost, and afraid, and angry, and alone. And I know a _lot_ about having no power at all.”

Ganondorf drew breath to speak.

A clangor of bells swallowed his words, and a searing blossom of rose-pink and gold light consumed the whole world. 

In the flickering phosphine inside his eyes, Link saw the shape of an elegant hand, every finger splayed in tension. 

He hurt all through his everything. He tried to draw breath and coughed instead, wet and bitter and caustic. He spun through the pulsing pink-black darkness, dizzy and sick. 

A little voice inside him said he was stupid. The voice said he was a lazy, misfit, fog-headed failure. The voice said his pain and strife was meaningless and worthless and embarrassing. The voice said he didn’t deserve to be a hero.

“You are flesh and blood,” said a different voice from very far away. It was hard to understand it through the echoes and reflections striking the unyielding eigengrau. “You must allow your heart to beat, your lungs to breathe. It hurts to be alive, but you will learn again to wear it. I am here to remind you the way back home.”

Link tried again to cough the bitterness from his tongue, and this time when the world rocked and spun it tipped him over the edge of the boat into a lake of more pain. His nose smashed against cold stone, and the darkness pressed on his back like deadhands pinning him to the fouled earth. He coughed and retched, and he fought to move his body away from - he wasn’t sure what, but away. Surely if where he was felt terrible, somewhere else must be less bad.

“You are flesh and blood,” repeated the weird voice, closer this time, teasing his clogged ears with the idea of music. It seemed to be coming from both sides of him, and the echo overlapped each word so much they almost seemed to be spoken together. Or sang, maybe. It was the strangest music he’d ever heard, but he had little strength to listen to it. 

Bad falls took a long time to let go.

Sometimes a second fairy had to help when it was _really_ bad.

A little voice reminded him there _was_ no second fairy this time. He wasted their power on a stupid, childish daydream. 

He betrayed his Princess. He betrayed Hyrule. He betrayed the Great Deku. 

He was a bad hero.

He didn’t deserve to carry a sword forged by a goddess.

He should go away before he messed things up any worse.

“You are flesh and blood,” repeated the strange, resonant voice. If a rainstorm could sing a wistful ballad, it would sound like that voice.

“Link, wake up! Wake up Link! Oh _how_ can the fate of Hyrule depend on such a lazy boy,” cried Navi, her bells shivering and thin as she bounced in frantic circuits around his head.

“ _Ohhh_ stop,” he groaned to the stone floor, his tongue thick and stupid. Squinching his eyes tightly closed didn’t make it any better. “That makes me dizzy. Dizzier. More dizzy.”

“Turn your head,” said one voice.

“Drink this,” said another.

“Just tip a _little_ on his tongue.”

“I _know_ what I’m _doing_.”

“Evidence suggests otherwise. Much good it does him on the ground.”

“He can barely swallow _wind_ , you can’t expect him to drink properly and we can’t wait to administer the dose. Effervescent potions absorb through the membranous layer - so long as it touches lips and tongue he gains some virtue from it.”

“And the stones are reminded of their fiery youth to bathe in the rest I’m sure.”

“ _Why_ can’t you be _nice_ ,” Link groaned to the spangled dark, and the damp stones, and the echoing voices of The Enemy and The Princess.

Short and sharp, Ganondorf laughed, combing his broad fingers through his hair. “If you can talk, you can drink. Little sips. Careful.”

“You’re pushing him too hard,” snapped Zelda. She held the bottle to his lips again, tipped just enough to allow a trickle to overflow the rim. 

“I’m ok,” mumbled Link between sharp fizzy sips of sour potion.

“You are not,” said Ganondorf simply.

“Neither are you,” Link countered.

Zelda gave an unprincessly snort of wry amusement, as Sheik so often did. “You _do_ realize courage _doesn’t_ mean you should rush headlong into every danger on offer?”

“It was _important_ ,” said Link, drawing back from the potion and rolling onto his side so he could squint up at the Gerudo king. “I’m sorry it didn’t help your eyes.”

“You are a _strange_ creature, little hero.” Ganondorf shook his head a little, but there was still a raspiness to his deep rumble. His red eyes narrowed in a way that _almost_ seemed like amusement and he continued to comb his fingers through his hair as he spoke. No one had ever done _that_ before but the Great Fairies and Malon, and even she would have stopped trying to make his hair tidy after three strokes.

“That feels nice,” mumbled Link, his ears burning with embarrassment. “Will you make friends now, Zelda?”

“ _Friend_ is a strong word,” she counters. “You need to drink more. The oathbreaking miasma is a lingering one - an infection of sorts. You must take the entire dose, or in effect you will strengthen the sickness by teaching it to defeat the cure.”

“Did you tell him the _consequence_ of the vows you asked seven years ago, Princess?” Ganondorf cupped a broad hand over his higher shoulder, gently urging him to continue the roll he began. He slipped his other hand under his neck, splaying his fingers across his upper back to help him harness the momentum to sit up, strong and steady and sure. 

“I… was young,” she said, and when Link looked up at her, her ears were folded tightly back in displeasure and her cheeks were bright pink with shame. Her lavish royal gown and sacred jewels were bloodstained, but only one tiny little tear marred the shoulder of the lavender silk partlet where the light arrow pierced her.

“So was I,” said Link quietly, letting a little of his weight still rest in the hands of the Great Evil King, who grew ever more puzzling. “Sometimes learning things hurts. I am not smart, or fast, and the ceaseless flow of time is cruel. I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to think of another way to show you both what the shadows were hiding before bad things could happen.”

Zelda grunted and _humpfed_ and grumbled at him to take his _damn_ medicine in a decidedly unladylike fashion. If _Sheik_ had complained at him so, nothing about it would have seemed strange at all - Sheik was forever gruff and stern. Sheik was everything a princess _wouldn’t_ be - sharp, violent, swift. Fiercely independent and aloof. Intensely focussed on his goals and ruthless in using every possible leverage to reach them.

Rather like Ganondorf.

Who clothed her in all the finery of her rank the _moment_ he found her.

Another puzzling thing for a _wicked_ sorcerer to do.

Link swallowed another mouthful of the sour fizzy potion, and caught Zelda’s wrist when she drew the bottle away. “Does it make you happy to be princess again-?”

Zelda flinched.

“Oh,” said Link. Another puzzle block clicked into place in the chaos. He turned to look up at Ganondorf, who was fixedly looking at nothing at all, away from both of them. “Did you know that?”

He frowned deeply, visibly pulling his thoughts back to the moment and glancing quickly between them as if he didn’t understand the puzzle either.

Link coughed and tried to sit up a little more. His skin burned like he’d fallen into itchweed, and his bones ached like he’d been wearing iron boots for days. “Were you trying to hurt Zelda, putting her back in a dress?”

“What? Where did you get such a ridiculous notion?” Ganondorf growled in annoyance. He clearly didn’t like feeling lost either.

“Did you put her in the crystal to hurt her?”

“ _No_ , that would be _stupid_ .” Again, he growled, but this time his eyes flared with a touch of warning light. “I need the Triforce piece she carries. That is all. I would have no further need to bother detaining her if she weren’t _obstinate._ ”

Link studied him, wondering if the fierce king realized that he’d already seen the true depth of his longing for companionship and comfort. “If we _could_ give it to you, would you leave Hyrule?”

“The Triforce _cannot_ leave Hyrule,” cut in Zelda. “Even should he surrender his false claims, and order his armies to withdraw, he could not take it anywhere. It is _bound_ to this land, and without it Hyrule would shatter.”

Link turned to her. “Why?”

Zelda fidgeted with the bottle in her hands. A third of the potion remained. “The land is damaged - scarred by the wars of gods and mortals. It is… by the power of the Golden Ones’ gift that Hyrule is protected from it all… healthy... and happy… and prosperous.”

“Like a dam to store water for a village,” said Link.

“Binding a river without killing the land above and below the cinch is a _delicate_ and _living_ pattern, and must _always_ be moving and changing with the winds of life to maintain balance,” said Ganondorf more quietly.

“I know _that_ ,” snapped Zelda. “What am I supposed to do about the stupidity of my ancestors? Just shatter it and drown Hyrule, like you? Because famine and wildfire and plague is _so much better._ ”

Ganondorf grunted, working his jaw.

“ _Wait_ ,” said Link, struggling to sit fully upright between the two proud monarchs. “ _That’s_ the answer. _Balance_. Like a milking stool.”

“What,” said Zelda, flat.

“Three legs, on which the land and sovereign rest,” said Ganondorf in a thoughtful sort of drawl. “Our warriors, to brace against a fierce, straight wind? They will take the seer’s tripod for their pattern, and with their shield on their back, my sisters will turn _with_ the wind, their spears thrust into the sands in their shadow. They can thus feel the slightest ease of pressure, and walk backwards like the wool spider against the wind, until they must root themselves again. The veils only hold most of the sand out. Walking in the lee of their own bodies allows them an oasis for breathing.”

“Do you wear veils when you live in the desert?”

Ganondorf met his gaze, and spoke without inflection. “A Great King does not bow to the wind. He commands it.”

Link reached to touch his knee, uncertain what to say in the face of such a cold admission of a most painful failure. 

“If I had control of the sacred realm I - even if I had such power, I _can’t_ give you the divine relic at the cost of my entire country,” stammered Zelda, fidgeting with the bottle.

“But you _don’t_ have Power. _He_ does.” Link took the bottle away. He was feeling steadier in any case, and better not to waste any more of the precious remedy. “Maybe _no one_ shattered it when we opened the door. Maybe it’s been pieces wedged into place to hold Hyrule up above the scars of the wars for a long time. But being _above_ something bad doesn’t make it heal or go away. Maybe at first it was good to be still, and look at the puzzle, study how the pieces stand and how it fits together - but you have to move in reach of danger to actually _solve_ it.”

“Hn,” said Ganondorf, with the tiniest curl at the edge of his wide lips. “Wisdom needs Courage.”

“ _And_ the Power to manifest the brave design,” said Zelda, lifting her chin with pride. “It is written that only a heart in perfect, righteous balance can command the power of the gods.”

“ _No one_ is perfect though,” said Link, wiping sour potion from his lips. It wasn’t as bad as the acrid red brew he bought from the Kakariko witch, but he certainly wouldn’t drink it at all if it _wasn’t_ medicine. “Making mistakes is part of being mortal. Though I think _immortals_ make mistakes too, only they don’t see it the way we can, so they can’t learn and get better. Even fairies, even my Kokiri friends - if something bad happens, or what they try to do goes different than they expected, they’re always sure that something or someone else interfered. And _sometimes_ that’s true, but not always.”

Ganondorf snorted. “Heretic.”

Link shrugged, glancing up at the desert king with a wry grin, but he forgot his retort when he saw how the man’s eyes crinkled at the corners, belying his censure.

Ganondorf seemed to know he saw that truth, for the creases deepened, and he flexed the hand still resting on his back. A secret little gesture of reassurance, just between them. 

Link turned away, blushing in a fluttery kind of confusion. The very enemy of light he gave seven years of his life to fight was helping him stay upright when his bones were begging him to collapse on the stone floor again, and his demon-red eyes were softening at the edges the way other people looked at their families when he helped them find each other in the chaos of endarkened Hyrule. 

He didn’t know what to do, how to _be,_ with Ganondorf looking at him that way. He was a hero with nothing to fight, no clear task anyone needed of him. The puzzle was bigger than all of them, and he’d already exhausted nearly everything just to persuade them to stop fighting.

Zelda was blushing too. She flexed and stretched her hands and fidgeted with her silk gloves. “It is - perhaps _possible_ to interpret the emphasis on perfect righteousness in the sacred texts as a warning. But why would the gods give my ancestors magic that demands finer control and more selfless virtue and sweeping knowledge mortals are even capable of?”

“Maybe because it was never _meant_ to belong to only one person,” he said with a shrug, swallowing the last dregs of potion so he could give her the bottle back. “Maybe after all the gods started arguing and fighting, the Golden Three _were_ giving our spirits strength and freedom and magic to protect our bodies and homes - and _also_ trying to teach _us_ to work together. People are just _better_ when they have friends.”

Neither of them said anything, but both looked away in opposite directions, their expressions hardening.

“You’re both smart,” said Link softly, drawing his knees up. “My fairy friends said we have more magic in our spirits than we can use _because_ our bodies are fragile, and because we get old, and can die. They said immortals can eat our magic, our feelings, our lives. They said the Golden Law is part of all the worlds, but if the Triforce only protects Hylians in Hyrule from gods and demons hurting us to get our magic, and _has_ to stay here, what protects everyone else and makes immortals follow the Law?”

Ganondorf snorted bitterly. “Usually? Tenuous alliances and expensive trades with the gods and spirits, pouring out offerings to buy or retain good favor - or at least indifference - from immortal powers.”

“ _And demons,_ ” added Zelda, glaring at him.

“Hn,” said Ganondorf, turning his red-and-yellow eyes on her, unmoved.

“Everything has an opposite, a balance - a reflection and a shadow,” Link mused softly, hugging his knees tighter to his chest. “But we are _three_ , not two.”

Zelda frowned at him. “You neglect the better half of the equation. Neither reflection nor shadow exists without a source of light. Weights cannot balance at all without a fulcrum between them. Opposites cannot _be_ opposites without a measure that defines them.”

Link hummed in thought at the puzzle. 

“ _Power_ ,” rumbled Ganondorf, withdrawing his strong hand at last to rock back on his heels. “Whether you possess it or lack it, power is the _reason_ for courage and wisdom. It is _skill_ and _might_ and _purpose_ to change the patterns of the world. All the courage in all the world is a toothless tempest without power. All the knowledge in every culture in every era is worthless as dust to the dying without the power to _use_ it. My _desires_ have nothing to do with anything. My purpose is and always has been _rational_. Power is the ultimate.”

Link gasped, turning to Zelda in horror. “Oh _no_ \- I am _your_ shadow.”

She frowned harder. “I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

Link shook his head. “No - The Princess can’t fight, can she? You needed a shadow to fulfill the dark thoughts so you could be bright. And then Rauru sealed me away _and the darkness hurt you._ ”

“That’s not-”

“And when I drove back _my_ shadow under the lake, you sent me to the horrible catacombs where Hyrule hides sins, and then to attack _his_ people-! The brighter _my_ heart and compassion, the darker and harder grew _yours._ We are the opposite ends of the same lodestone-”

“Incorrect,” cut in Ganondorf. “ _All three notes_ are necessary to complete the chord, howsoever bright or dark; all three legs to balance the stool, howsoever crooked or level; the music, the dancers, and the movement all necessary to weave the patterns, howsoever gentle or violent. The Sun, the Moon, the Stars. They are all separate, and they all move in harmony with one another.”

“ _Exactly_ . Every mortal heart contains both joy and sorrow,” agreed Zelda. “The shadow you fought was yours alone, Link. Your goodness of heart did _not_ cause any misery to befall _me_ any more than - than-”

“Than it did me,” cut in Ganondorf smoothly. Saving her from the discomfort of admitting, even in a small way, that she had judged _him_ too harshly. Taking the pain for himself, even though he had no reason or obligation to help her, and every reason to be angry. “Your heart is too pure for the wretched realities of this world, hero. You may be right, that like the Triforce itself, what we could achieve together _may_ be an order of magnitude beyond what we have each accomplished alone-”

“ _But_ ,” said Zelda. “There is still one _enormous_ problem with his idealistic theory, aside from the destruction and desolation which _you’ve_ poured over _my_ country.”

Link sighed.

Ganondorf said nothing, pushing to his feet suddenly and stalking away. His temper snapped the very air tight, like the split second before a wild lightning strike. 

Everything about him was like a storm. Dangerous, difficult to predict and harder still to understand, capable of utter ruination - but within that darkness he also brought healing rain.

Link turned to Zelda. “Where did you go while I was locked away?”

She frowned at him.

“I know you became Sheik. You make a good sneaky warrior. But did you stay in Hyrule or - did you go away? Did Hyrule lose one leg, or two?”

“Depends on the season,” she admitted after a moment, tangling her hands in her lap. “I had to always be moving to stay out of the grasp of his spies. I could never stay long enough to _do_ much with Impa’s notes or cleanse the holy places. _Seven years_ running from his hunters, and the whole time he had a trap crystal _waiting_ to snare me in the Temple.”

“Did you see tracks? Did they show themselves? How did you know the difference between a _prophecy_ he might catch you somewhere, and _fear_ that he would?”

“As if the whole world weren’t _crawling_ with his foul necromantic puppets and mindless ravaging monsters,” she snapped.

Link frowned. “His? Or Ganon’s?”

“There is no appreciable difference,” she countered, gesturing angrily. “The demon thief of the Gerudo desert is worshipped as the _literal_ incarnation of his dark god and there is no evidence whatever that he - there has never been any - that is, he _chose_ evil, Link. You _must_ understand. The Golden Law is absolute, _especially_ within the influence of the Triforce. Free Will allows us to challenge and even disobey, but it does _not_ allow _anyone_ to escape the _consequence_ of transgression. Even immortals. If the demon possessed his body _against his will_ , within an _hour_ of pouring his full power through an unwilling conduit, his physical form would have degraded into a beastly horror, and within a few hours of _that_ , deteriorated entirely. The sheer misery Ganon could pour into the world in just half a day at full strength is _terrifying_.” 

“I don’t know about all of the dangerous creatures in the world, but blins and lizal _aren’t_ mindless. And most wild things aren’t mindless either, even if they don’t think the same way we do. I lived in the wild a long time before the Great Deku died. Wild things are dangerous when they’re hungry, or you’re in _their_ home, or you scared them. Mostly they want to be left alone,” said Link, trying to scrape together the strength and discipline to stand, and cross the enormous golden room at the top of the dark tower and drag the lonely king back to center. “The stal… are sad. And the redeads. And deadhands. And poe. They mostly don’t seem to follow orders though, just their anger and pain that you’re alive and they aren’t. I’ve fought constructs I _know_ he made, and those were different. _Almost_ smart. But also kindof like… a clever music box.”

“Nonetheless. They _all_ overrun Hyrule _because of him,_ ” said Zelda.

“Are you sure?”

Zelda said nothing.

Link stood. It hurt. “Holding Wisdom shows you answers to puzzles that haven’t even been made yet, so you _must_ know the answer we need most. We just need to _find_ it, like sorting through keys for which one fits. Fighting and killing are the wrong keys. Leaving is the wrong key. Trying to force the pieces to fuse back together was the wrong key.”

“He is not _righteous_ ,” she insisted, her hands clenched into fists. 

“Who is?” Link said it quietly, resettling the familiar weight of sword and shield hanging from his baldric. He wondered how much longer he would have to carry them, and if he would feel strange when the world was finally at peace. “You said something before he opened the crystal, but I couldn’t hear. It seemed like it might have been about defeating demons? It might be important. Ganondorf believes the Triforce is the only thing in the whole world more powerful than his god, but I’m not so sure.”

“ _You should be,_ ” growled Ganondorf from halfway across the room. “You faithless fools - do you _really_ think _you_ can stand against _me?_ Pathetic.”

The little hairs on the back of his neck prickled. The wind shifted in the windless golden room. The part of him that emptied of thought in a fight became a stillness in the unseen storm.

The fight he’d given everything to stop was going to become anyway. 

And he had no fairy allies left.

Even Navi was quiet. Hiding, probably. Or else her voice as his spirit returned to his body was his imagination, and she gave up on him while he waited for Zelda to make the right choice.

“I am not afraid of you,” said Link, calm and even.

Ganondorf glared over his shoulder, his teeth bared in a wicked parody of a grin, and the weird yellow-green light briefly flared like before. 

“My friends taught me there is immense power in hatred and resentment and fear and passion and gratitude and wonder,” said Link taking one step towards the angry king. “What happens when you feed your feelings to your god?”

Ganondorf’s only answer was laughter. Neither wry nor darkly resonant, but deeply wicked. He sounded like wolfos teeth looked.

“You see? He _willfully_ embraces the greatest evil to ever walk in all the worlds,” said Zelda, stumbling on the hem of her skirt as she rose. She wasn’t comfortable in a dress anymore. If she ever was.

“Did he tell _you_ why he made you a fancy dress from magic? I don’t think he understood me when I asked,” said Link, taking another step. Resisting the urge to reach for his sword. The prickly sensation hummed under his skin. He could feel the lightning gathered to strike.

“Not a word, except to mock me and my title with poisoned flattery and empty civilities,” Zelda followed him, yards of silk gathered in her fist. When he first met her, he thought no one in the world could be more graceful than her. Now she fumbled and fought with the beautiful adornments of her true rank. To be fair, she’d probably not worn a dress in seven years. It could be that she simply wasn’t used to them - but she looked uncomfortable in a way he had no words for. He knew the frustration of his body being a stranger with greater intimacy than anyone would likely ever understand - except maybe Zelda.

“I don’t think he knew it would hurt you,” murmured Link for her ears alone, turning his attention back to the wrathful king. He visibly bristled, but held his ground. He could have advanced or struck. He was ready for both. “He _is_ ruthless, so using his magic to make the dress, then saying nothing about it? He must imagine you only set aside skirts to hide from him, and you’d want all those nice things back when there was no point hiding anymore.”

“Then he’s infatuated with a figment of his own construction and never knew anything of _me_ at all,” she said archly, more than loud enough for Ganondorf to hear.

Link hummed in thought, struggling against the uncomfortable tangibility of resonant violence pouring off the king. He wondered if Ganondorf walked away because he too felt it rise. If he meant to protect them from the demon feeding on his anger and pain, to keep the miasma from affecting them. “Did you _let_ him see the real you though? And how do you _know_ his compliments were false? When I’ve heard him call you Princess, it didn’t sound like an insult to me. Just because you disagree doesn’t mean he’s being wicked and false.”

“Amusing though your vain little attempts to bargain another miserable hour walking the wretched earth may be, you are wasting my time. Give me the relic or I will _take it_ . Either way I will crush _you_ and your foolish little hero and all the other pathetic cowards hiding behind Hylia’s robes. I will have the world under my heel, and no amount of weeping and begging will save you.”

Ganondorf’s lips spoke, and the _voice_ was his, but also it was not. The _words_ were _definitely_ not his. His contempt might have seemed true when Link unlocked the golden room at the top of the dark tower. Hours later, after everything said and done - and _not_ said, and _not_ done - it was a string out of tune, it was sand in the ocarina, it was a boot on the wrong foot.

“The Gerudo people need their king to lead and protect them, now more than ever. Let him go,” said Link, gesturing for Zelda to stop, to stay behind him. “Take me instead.”

Ganondorf answered with a mocking, sharp laugh, turning to face them with a strange heaviness in his movement. “ _You?_ I would sooner accept a sacrificial _cucco_ , for at least in its five fleeting little minutes the violent absurdity of the beast might be entertaining. You are less use than a sheep, than a worm. You have not so much as a _drop_ of _royal_ blood and nevermind _divine_ . You are not even descended of great heroes, but sniveling cowards, and what your pathetic mortal friends call purity of heart is more like _stupidity_. The only impressive quality you own is managing not to drown looking at the rain.”

Link frowned. That didn’t sound right _at all_ , no matter how much Zelda’s words hurt him. Either the shadows were smothering his heart worse than ever, or - he was trying to force a fight. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t have to end here.”

“You are the ones at your end, you fools!” Ganondorf laughed, filling his raised fist with miasma and lightning. His eyes pinned and flared wildly, reflecting an eerie flicker of yellow-green as the dense knot of magic snapped and whined and singed the air as it flew.

Link drew the blessed sword with desperate haste to reflect it safely away. Stone cracked and trembled.

“Whatever he once might have been? There’s no undoing what he’s become,” Zelda hissed urgently, scrambling to dodge a second tangle of lightning and darkness little cracks became deeper cracks, the stone tiles crumbling where the bolt hit. 

Ganondorf rose into the air, gathering a third bolt, bigger than the first two together.

“ _Use the sword,_ ” urged Navi from her usual hiding place under his hat.

Link caught the third bolt on blessed steel, his boots skidding on stone. He didn’t throw it fast enough, and the shock sizzled through his blood, stealing his wind.

“With the Triforce broken, the sword that seals the darkness is all we have left,” said Zelda. “I need time and focus to channel the powers of Light - maybe if you stun him-”

“ _No_ ,” Link growled, absorbing a fourth strike on the mirror-bright Gerudo shield.

“You must. Even the power of the awakened sages won’t be enough to bind him if you don’t _strike_ ,” said Navi. “You can’t take many more hits like that!”

“Too weak and cowardly to fight back? _Pathetic_ ,” snarled Ganondorf, weaving through the air above them. “You couldn’t even manage to be an _interesting_ bug to crush.”

Link clenched his teeth and reflected the next bolt back to its maker - but he caught and flung it back. Again, and again, faster, and faster. Zelda shrieked a warning he didn’t need. Link had played this game before.

Ganondorf fell from the air, his interrupted magic crackling and sparking wildly. He landed heavily, off-balance, leaning on his fist as he gasped for air. Wretched. Rasping. Hand to his throat, his demon eyes shut. 

More stones cracked around his armored boots, as if he weighed a hundred times more than he possibly could. One of the wider cracks swallowed a stone tile, revealing the heavy timber joist below.

Link watched Ganondorf struggle, using the moment to fill his own lungs and _think_. He ignored Zelda’s fretting. That didn’t matter. She knew how to fight in the Sheikah way - she could surely manage her own safety for a moment. The important thing was Ganondorf’s red eyes opening, fixed on him, and him alone. The important thing was the enemy rising on air to weave light and shadow into deadly and familiar tangles. The important thing was matching his rhythm and bringing him to the ground again. 

Bruised. Blistered. Bleeding. 

And for another slender moment when Ganondorf gathered his strength and power to rise again, his demon-reddened eyes remained clear of the eerie glow, crinkling at the corners in a strangely soft fashion. 

It vanished again into cruel mirth as he wove another magic bolt.

More stones cracked. Zelda commanded him to cross the blackened and crumbling floor to strike him while he knelt. To finish him. To seal his spirit. To unleash the full power of Light and force him to surrender - or die.

His shoulder hurt. His wrist hurt. Maybe it wasn’t as much work to parry magic as steel, but it was still more than he had any desire to do, and the ancient master sword was heavy in more than one sense. He wondered if Zelda had ever killed someone, and if she had done it from a distance with her throwing blades and arrows and magic. He wondered if she understood what it was to wear the blood of another, to feel them die.

“I can’t do it,” she cried when Ganondorf fell for the dozenth time, blood dripping from his jeweled crown. Her voice cracked, and the Triforce mark on his hand pulsed with cold. “He recovers too fast - his magic is so much stronger than mine. I can’t finish a single cantrip. I can’t drive Ganon out alone and I can’t pull the sages into the Work. Oh _why_ do the gods allow it-?”

“Because the gods let people make mistakes,” said Link with a shrug, wiping sweat from his brow. He paced, working the blessed sword in fluid loops, waiting for the man to open his demon eyes.

“Hah,” rasped Ganondorf, licking blood from his split lip. “You’ve been practicing.”

“I told you. I am stronger than I was before. I am not a child anymore. I am the Hero of Hyrule, and _I_ say the Great Evil King will not destroy this land today, or tomorrow, or any other day so long as I live.”

Ganondorf shook his head, cackling wickedly. He crushed more stones as he leapt into the air again. “You fool - how much longer do you really think I will _let_ you live? I will _relish_ the torment of Hylia’s descendent - but _you?_ Are _worthless._ ”

Link parried another ball of magic. And another. And another. 

Dozens of bolts ravaged the body of the Gerudo king, and still the wrathful demon clung to His host, and still Ganondorf remained willing to bear it. 

“You do _not_ have to end here,” Link shouted to his wounded enemy. “Whatever your god says, whatever your shadows say, they are _wrong_. You deserve to live. You are not what has happened to you. You are not the sum of your mistakes. You can change your stars.”

“Oh faithful hero,” Ganondorf laughed. Wet and bitter and thin. Mocking, but also not. His voice was his own, if only for a moment, every time he fell. “How can a weak, naive kid from nowhere hope to defeat the Great Evil King?”

“Maybe that’s what Courage _really_ is,” said Link with a shrug. "Hope."

“Link, please. I can’t, I’m trying. You have to strike him down longer than that,” Zelda begged. “Ganon will never give up. He can’t. It’s not in his nature.”

“The fairies said demons are immortals,” Link agreed, as Ganondorf’s laughter turned cold again. He wove another flourish and tried not to wonder how long his arm would stay strong. He had neither potions nor fairies, and if he called on Nayru’s blessing to protect him, he wouldn’t be able to catch the lightning anymore. “What happens to immortals when they live in a person, and the person is dying?”

“I - if they don’t have or can’t make their own physical form they have to take another’s, or return to the realm they came from,” Zelda stammered. “But Ganon - wasn’t created in the First Era. He doesn’t _have_ a realm.”

“Why Hyrule? Of all the places in all the worlds you could choose, why the one that is best guarded from gods and demons like you?” Link asked when his enemy fell again. He hopped over holes in the floor to draw closer. Ganondorf was badly wounded. And yet. He showed no sign of the monstrous transformation Zelda said would come if he rejected his god.

Ganondorf coughed blood, and shrugged. His voice rasped. “Her. It is Hers. She loved it, She loved them, She defied the Golden Three to steal the Triforce for _Her_ favorite servants, and they loved Her for it. Therefore. Hatred.”

“You deserve to love and be loved,” said Link, hoping both god and king could hear him. “Hurting others won’t make _your_ hurt stop.”

“ _Everything_ stops in death,” muttered Ganondorf with a bitter snort. His eyes flared, and once again he rose into the air to call his magic.

Link sighed, diffusing the next bolt with the shield. The fight cost more with every round.

“The Calamitous One hasn’t had a willing host in millenia. He won’t give up without a mortal wound,” whispered Navi. “He feeds on pain and misery and sorrow - you must remember to think like an immortal, Link. You _have_ to _make_ him understand his shell is fragile.”

“He _is_ weakening,” said Link, between parries.

“Not enough,” said Zelda. “Maybe if you hit his head-?”

“Or use a light arrow,” whispered Navi.

Link roared in frustration as he stuck the magic bolt once again. 

Ganondorf fell.

Link leapt over the yawning holes in the floor and brought the blessed sword down across the man’s back. Ganondorf cried out in pain, leaning heavily on his fist. Blood and magic stained the crumbling marble beneath him.

Link struck again, careful to hammer the edge against armor. He wasn’t sure how thick the quilted black wool arming suit was.

Even so, the force must have broken something, for Ganondorf crumpled forward, retching blood. He was trying to say something. He was trying to stand. He was surrounded by the shadowed miasma and eerie yellow-green wisps and hints of sparkling blue. He cried out in denial and despair. 

The miasma thickened.

So did the winking blue lights.

The eerie green magic flared.

“ _Like that,_ ” cried Zelda. “Hold him - _hold him like that_ \- oh gods of light, o guardian spirits, o sages, _hear me-!_ ”

“ _No-!_ ” Ganondorf howled.

Yellow-green magic turned blue, turned purple, turned a glowing black Link knew well from the deepest depths of the temple under the lake.

And yet - it seemed to shrink, coiling in on itself to one dense, _noisy_ little ball of black-purple rage.

About the size of a lesser fairy.

Link drew back, and the suddenness jostled his satchel against his hip. He hurried to sheathe his sword. Three bottles stood somewhere behind him at the edge of the rug, if they hadn’t fallen through the floor of the tower room already - but the one he’d carried water in, the one he gave Ganondorf, and the one he gave back should still be in his bag - _was_ indeed faithfully waiting in his bag - gloriously, perfectly empty.

The ball of darkness shrieked in fury when he swept it out of the air.

The cork popped and squeaked and settled into place anyway.

“Blessed goddess - it’s now or never! Oh sages, stand with me,” Zelda cried.

Golden light poured past him and coiled around the bottle in his fist. The darkness inside howled and cursed and flung itself against the glass and the cork. Green followed gold. Red followed green. Blue and purple and orange threads of light knotted themselves around the precious, priceless bottle, and the monstrous hatred inside it.

Ganondorf laughed, and coughed, and stumbled to his feet. He raised his bloody hand to smear more blood around his bloody face, and the pulse of the Triforce on his hand matched the pulse on Link’s, on Zelda’s. Fragile threads of mystic blue and purest gold lightning coiled around his fingertips.

Link flinched, his stomach dropping through the floor. He tried to raise his shield.

“May it be forever remembered in legend,” rasped Ganondorf with a lopsided smirk, “this was the _dumbest_ idea in the _history_ of dumb ideas.”

His golden eyes crinkled at the corners as he said it.

Link drew a deep breath and raised the bottle high.

Zelda intoned some holy prayer.

Ganondorf added his lightning to the rainbow of the sages’ magic.

The glowing darkness in the bottle dimmed for a moment. Red eyes glowed in the center of the darkness, and at the edges fluttered a hint of shining, dagged-edge wings. Tiny coiled horns and clicking hooves reflected the light of the seal as the dark creature screamed and fought their tiny glass prison in vain.

“ _Navi?_ No, no it is a mistake - it can’t - it’s an illusion - _Navi!_ ” Link turned, shouting for his bright little companion. She was probably hiding again - but of all times to hide, he decided this was the _worst_. 

“Be still, hero. She cannot answer as she is,” Ganondorf said. His voice was raw and jagged as the magic faded and he lowered his hand. He looked _terrible_. “She must love you immensely. I, however, am now obliged to hate you both. ”

“But,” said Link, his throat tight.

Ganondorf snorted, shaking his head. “How _dare_ you steal my glorious destiny? What am I supposed to do now? Die an old man, decrepit and weak?”

“Wretched creature,” scoffed Zelda, but for once there was no heat behind it. She hopped over the cracks in the floor with her skirts bundled in her fist. “Don’t cry, Link. You did it. We won! Don’t listen to that overgrown jerk - that was a _brilliant_ idea.”

“I don't understand. I didn’t do anything,” stammered Link, staring at the bottle in his hands. “Or… not anything good. Navi? _Navi, please._ ”

“Be at peace, hero. Your friend is immortal, remember? She cannot die,” said Ganondorf, gesturing as if he would touch his shoulder, but stopped short of actually doing it.

Link frowned at the wrathful darkness trapped in glass and magic. “Navi?”

Zelda sighed. “I’m sorry, Link. In time perhaps we will find a different way to divide _them_ , to purify her and return her to her kind, and seal _Him_ against further disaster, but for now - let us honor her wishes and her sacrifice, and let the sages bind them in the sacred realm.”

“ _But,_ ” said Link, clutching the bottle close.

“In every meeting there is a parting,” said Ganondorf quietly, closing his golden eyes. “I - your mercy is - if you will allow one small gift from evil hands, I will see what may be found in ancient lore. Perhaps there is a purification rite that will work for fae kindred where it did not - where before it was not enough.”

Link swallowed hard. “She can’t hear me with Him overshadowing her spirit, can she?”

“I don’t know,” said Zelda, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“She can,” said Ganondorf, quiet and confident. “To hear and see and feel, yet be unable to act freely is its own torment, and among His favorite.”

Link sniffled, and hugged the bottle tight one last time. "I will miss you forever.”

The endarkened fairy screamed in rage.

Ganondorf looked away.

Zelda held out her hands for the bottle. Her gloves were torn and stained.

Link sighed, and surrendered his friend to his Princess.

Zelda intoned some kind of chant he couldn’t understand, and the many-colored light knotted around the bottle glowed noon-bright. 

The whole thing vanished.

Link sighed again in sorrow.

Ganondorf twitched his hand in the beginning of some movement he turned into an awkward stretch. He folded his arms over his chest, failing to hide a wince of pain as he did it.

“Sorry,” mumbled Link.

“Such is war,” said Ganondorf with a shrug. “Your generous friend took the worst of it. I am not, however, in condition to repair the tower. So watch your step, unless you have a very great wish to gamble on the reach of my current powers of levitation.”

“We did it. We won,” said Zelda in a kind of soft awe. “You - came to the Light. You - you actually helped seal Ganon. _You helped us win._ ”

Ganondorf snorted and looked away. “Underestimate your enemy at your peril. I wouldn’t say the work is truly finished.”

“It never is,” agreed Link, scrubbing tears from his cheeks. “Like water only stays clean when it’s moving, the world only stays saved and peaceful and good as long as people work to save it and make it better for everyone.”

Zelda stared at him.

“Even so. It is necessary to rest after a victory, so you can rise to save the world again tomorrow,” said Ganondorf, gruff and stern. “I may be able to weave you a portal to your home village or something if you will stand very still and _don’t_ distract me.”

“And where will you go?” Link tipped his head to look up at the desert king who wouldn’t look at _him_.

Ganondorf shrugged.

“A question for tomorrow,” said Zelda sharply, squaring her shoulders. “I want a _nap_ , an _entire_ strawberry cake, and _pants_ with _pockets_. Not necessarily in that order.”

Ganondorf raised a brow in silence, studying her sidelong with his golden eyes.

Zelda crossed her arms in a reflection of his own stubborn stance.

He raised his right hand, and snapped his fingers. A crack of blue-gold lightning lanced through the shattered golden room. Zelda’s fine silks shimmered - and where before she wore the ritual gown of the Sacred Maiden, now her jewels and embroidered ceremonial apron hung over loose Gerudo-style trousers and a provincial tunic in the same soft pink and lavender.

Zelda scowled at him.

He snapped his fingers again, and under the stone canopy of his strange instrument at the far side of the room, a heavy oak table appeared, laden with every possible fruit and confection.

Zelda scowled at the feast. “Did you _have_ to make it _pastel?_ ” 

Ganondorf snapped his fingers, but no lightning answered this time. He shrugged and clicked his tongue. “Alas, my magical powers are _exhausted_.”

“No they aren’t,” she snapped.

Ganondorf shrugged, brows raised in a thin pretense of innocence. “Perhaps you should be grateful I didn’t attempt to send you to dreamland.”

Zelda said _several_ bad words and turned heel for the magic feast.

Food did sound wonderful. So did a nap. His heart hurt, and his body hurt, and he felt more alone than he could remember.

“Regret,” said Ganondorf softly.

Link frowned up at him in confusion.

Ganondorf’s golden eyes remained uncanny, and his sharp features did seem frightening with purpling bruises and smeared blood, but something in his manner had changed. “Asifad. It means _regret_ , or _remorse_ , because from the day he was foaled to the day he stumbled and fell in the green fields of Hyrule, he never had any at all.”

“He must have been a very good horse,” said Link, but what he meant was, _you must have loved him._

“He was,” said Ganondorf simply, though his quietude said _yes, I did_.

“I’m sorry I had to hit you. Again. It’s ok if you’re mad,” said Link, fumbling to unwind his aching right arm from the shield-straps. “But I hope you don’t stay mad forever.”

Ganondorf shrugged. “You fought better than I expected, but unless you desire a career in sword-dancing on a _stage_ , you should dedicate more practice to _small_ movements. I am surprised you survived my sister’s blades if you met _her_ with the same inattention.”

“The great-axe is slow. I am fast,” said Link. “I hope she is healed.”

Ganondorf grunted, and looked away.

“I am sorry I hurt you, and I am sorry you have lost friends and family. I - understand if you never want to see me again after today… but I would still like to be your friend,” said Link, scuffing his boots awkwardly.

“If you two _idiots_ keep standing about like lumps I’m _not_ going to leave _any_ cakes for you,” shouted Zelda, gesturing rudely with a handful of pastry.

Link shook his head in bafflement.

Ganondorf snorted. “Don’t let her see it shock you so, hero. It will only encourage her. She merely bears Nayru’s gift of _wisdom_ , not Farore’s kindness.”

Link frowned. “Farore’s gift is _courage_.”

“Is it?” Ganondorf countered archly. He nodded toward the table. “Come, let’s see if the glutton has managed to stuff herself with all the gant’shakroth yet.”

Link had to stretch to keep up with him, but even so it was clear the Gerudo king measured his steps smaller than was comfortable for him. “That sounds like a Gerudo word. Like - ganthu? Honey?”

“Just so,” said Ganondorf, and his eyes crinkled a little. “Honey, and as many chickaloo nuts as can be forced between the layers. We only make those particular cakes for festival, because goat’s-milk butter cannot achieve the sublime texture necessary for true gant’shakroth, and cow’s-milk butter must be brought from Hyrule or Termina.”

“But can’t you make them with magic?”

“Magic can only transform, transmute, and translocate. It cannot create from nothing. Or do you too think I am a barbarian without the concept of a _kitchen?_ ”

Link hummed in thought. “So where does your lightning come from-?”

“Hn. It is a secret,” said Ganondorf, gesturing to a heap of glistening golden triangle pastries. Just looking at them made his hands feel sticky.

“Don’t touch those ones,” said Zelda, pointing to the heap with half of a sticky, buttery triangle. “They’re poison.”

“I am not afraid,” said Link with a grin, seizing a little cake.

“ _Poison_ ,” insisted Zelda around a mouthful of cake.

Ganondorf made a tidy stack of three and picked them up all together. They shed flakes of pastry and glorps of honey as he carried the whole stack to his lips and crunched into it with relish.

The gant’shakroth was even _better_ than it looked, and none of them regretted stuffing themselves silly as they feasted their victory together in the first peaceful dawn which had touched the capital in seven long years. 

Sweaty, bloody, sticky, and exhausted.

And gloriously alive.

* * *

****

**Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> We made it.  
> We have loved, and lost, and struggled, and survived.  
> It is perhaps bittersweet, and also it is still a victory worth celebrating.


End file.
